


Roman Story II

by olympia_m



Series: The Roman Story [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 22:23:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 60,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olympia_m/pseuds/olympia_m
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The continuing story of Lucius and Cassianus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roman Story II

**Author's Note:**

> Still unedited, still with formatting errors for which I still apologize.

When he woke up Cassianus was up already. “I’ve been thinking,” he said before Lucius even had a chance to rub his eyes and wash his face. “If Marcus’ workmen come today, they will make too much noise.”

“Eh?”

“I can’t read if it’s too noisy,” he said softly, and by Jove, was he pouting a little? Did he even know he was doing it? The sight affected him in ways he didn’t want to contemplate much.

“You don’t have to stay here.”

He frowned, like he was considering something very deeply and seriously. “I’ll survive,” he said a few moments later.

Lucius sat up. “Why don’t we go out? Wait until the workmen come, give them instructions, and then go out. Have you been to the Gardens of Sallust lately?”

“I haven’t.”

“Then we’ll go there.”

Cassianus smiled a little and off he went. Lucius fell back on the bed and ran his hand over his dick. It was like it had stayed hard all night, so sensitive it felt. A few tugs was all it took to bring him off, and he thanked all the gods for that, because Cassianus returned as he was wiping himself with his tunic, carrying a plate   
with fruits and bread for him. He threw the garment down and pushed the blanket up to his chest. “You look flushed,” Cassianus said as he settled on the bed.  
How did he answer that? With honesty or lies? Honesty was the better course, he decided a moment later. Couldn’t Cassianus smell what he did? He certainly could, because he was frowning just a little, and taking short, deep breaths, trying to recognize the scent. “Just a result of being male,” he said, grinning.

Cassianus blinked.

It made him feel uncomfortable. He liked being a big brother, but some things he didn’t want to discuss ever again. Once had been enough. “In the mornings,” he started, “don’t you ever…” Perhaps Cassianus didn’t, but he gestured suggestively anyway. Seeing Cassianus blush with embarrassment would never get old, or boring. But this time, Lucius felt himself redden in sympathy. “You know,” he said, putting his hand down.

“I pray,” Cassianus said earnestly. “Until the urge passes.” What a waste. “But it’s pleasant.”  
“It’s unhealthy. Didn’t you know that? I thought that was why athletes and gladiators were encouraged to abstain before competing and fighting.”

“This one wasn’t,” he smirked proudly, pointing at himself.

Cassianus frowned, looking like he couldn’t decide if Lucius was teasing him, or telling the truth. “It’s also wrong. Desire can lead to lust, and that can lead to temptation.”

“But if you overcome temptation, isn’t that a greater victory than being chaste because you were never tempted in the first place?”

“Hm.” Cassianus bit his lips. “You may be right. It may be a greater victory,” he said after a few moments of thinking about it. “But I’ve never been tempted, so how would I know?” he asked, staring at him innocently.

Lucius made a strangled noise and he forced himself not to speak and not to move. The temptation to pounce on Cassianus, and ask him if he wanted to be tempted, if he was curious to see what made lust so pleasant, was overwhelming and it took everything he was to hold himself back. Because Cassianus was the fawn, and he was the hunter, and hunters didn’t pounce on fawns, especially ones that looked so trustingly at him, with big, blue eyes open and unafraid and without any hint of curiosity in them. From someone else, that question would have been a flirtation, an opening for him to move. From Cas it was just a statement.

How was it in that book? The kisses of boys were artless, schooled only by nature? This was exactly what the writer had meant. He swallowed. “Perhaps that’s for the best,” he said tightly.

“You think me foolish.”  
“I think you…” He sighed. He couldn’t say beautiful, or attractive, or anything like that. “I think it’s admirable.” “You think it makes me less true to my beliefs? That lack of struggle with temptation?” He frowned again, and  
licked his lips for just a moment, the tiniest hint of pink on pink.

“I wish I was like you,” Lucius replied seriously. Because right now, his manhood had began to swell again, and all he wanted was to lick Cassianus’ lips himself, but if he did, his prey would flee.

“But isn’t it better to struggle and win? Like you said?” “Sometimes, you can’t win against temptation.”  
“Nonsense.” Cassianus smiled. “If you could defeat a hundred men, then surely you can overcome your own self.”

Lucius doubted it, but the fact that Cassianus knew of his reputation, and was still willing to believe in him did strange things to him. It did not make him any less desirous, but it made him able to control himself enough  
to have breakfast. It also made something in Lucius’ chest swell and tighten at the same time. Could he be   
ill?

No matter. As long as he was well for the rest of the day, he’d gladly fall ill the next.

&*&*

Instructions given, Gaius left a grudging supervisor, and they could finally leave. “I always have something from Daphne’s,” he said as he walked towards her shop. “She makes the best bread and sweet cakes this side of the Tiber.”

“And on the other?”

Was he serious? There was no smile, no trace of amusement, and yet, Lucius was certain that Cassianus was making a joke. He grinned. “Don’t know. Haven’t been there in ages.”

“Hm.”

Daphne’s was almost empty. There was just her and Flaccus, the barber. She grinned when she saw him. “You’re up early.” Then she smiled at Cassianus. “I haven’t seen you much around. I was worried he kept you chained in the house. Is he treating you well?”

Cassianus stared at her strangely. Then he stared at Lucius.

“Come in, sit down,” she told them, beckoning them in. “I’ll get your favourite,” she said as she cleaned a table with a cloth and all but pushed Lucius down. “He’s a quiet one, isn’t he?” she whispered to him. “But pretty. Gods, he is pretty.” She moved away, giggling like a girl.

“Just ignore her. She’s a meddlesome woman,” he said, raising his voice.

Daphne giggled again, and when Flaccus whispered something to her, she nodded.

“But she’s right. You didn’t get out of the house much, did you?” Lucius frowned. “I hope it wasn’t because…” Because you were ashamed of being seen as a slave? He couldn’t say that.

“It’s because people call me ‘pretty’,” Cassianus said, uncomfortable. “Like at the Baths.”  
Cassianus looked down. “It’s what I find the most difficult about being…. Father had always been kind to his slaves, and every time he slept with one of them, it was because they too had wanted it.”

“Can a slave do anything but submit to his master’s will?”

“I thought they did,” Cassianus said, looking at him. “Want to sleep with Father. I never thought they were forced to it. I thought Father was different.”

“Was he?”

“I don’t know anymore.”

Daphne put two plates on the table and then she sat down. She studied Cassianus shamelessly. “If he’s not treating you right, you come to me, you hear me, honey?” She said, grinning and patting Cassianus’ hand.

Cassianus didn’t pull back. He glanced at Lucius and then answered her seriously. “Lucius has been kind to me, but I appreciate your offer.”

“Oh, he’s polite too.” She stood up, caressing Lucius on the shoulder. “The gods were kind to you, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stick with this one.”

“She’s meddlesome,” Lucius muttered the moment she was away. He grabbed his bread and bit into it. Nosy or not, she was a great baker.

Cassianus carefully tore a small piece only. “What did she mean that you should ‘stick with me’?”   
“Nonsense. Women’s talk, that’s all.”

He didn’t seem content with Lucius’ answer, but since he didn’t ask further, Lucius didn’t say anything either.

&*&*

The Gardens of Sallust was not the closest of the pleasure gardens within Rome, but they were so large Lucius knew they could spend the whole day there. There was a stoa with paintings, fountains, several temples, and numerous statues all in a garden full of oaks and plane trees and vines, and shrubs and bushes of all kinds. The song of birds was everywhere, the scents of flowers and leaves pervasive. He was looking forward to discussing them with Cassianus, or simply stroll around, saying nothing. The weather looked good for that, cloudy and just a little fresh.

Since Cassianus didn’t show any interest in the garden that was shaped like a stadium and all its green  
glory, but seemed to be attracted instead by the buildings, Lucius walked towards the round temple of Venus. And that was when the rain started. It started slowly, but within moments it had turned into a storm, and Lucius ran towards the building, seeking shelter. By the time he was there, his hair was plastered to his  
head, and his clothes clung to his body. And Cassianus was just as wet, grinning behind him.

The temple had a colonnade of yellow veined marble around the room where the statue of the Goddess was, and for a while he was content to lean against one column while Cassianus moved around, studying the temple’s architecture. Lucius was glad it was the time that most people spent at the baths, and so he could admire Cassianus without having to beat people for staring at him. The tunic Cassianus was wearing was  
thin to begin with, and wet it left almost nothing to the imagination, from the flat planes of his chest with the nipples standing proudly out, small and, he suspected, deliciously hard, to the sharpness of his hipbones, and even though he could not see much of Cassianus’ manhood, he had to swallow a whimper at how delightful his backside was. He could want him for his beauty alone, but he loved him for his spirit, and that made him even more desirable.

A man smelling of expensive perfume slid down next to him, and Lucius made some space for him. Two could lean on a column and he and Cas were not the only ones to seek shelter from the storm. He didn’t like it when the man pushed closer to him, but he said nothing. Cassianus was tracing the veins of a column, looking utterly fascinated, and that was more interesting than getting upset over someone sitting very close to him.

“Pretty, if you like them at the end of youth,” the man rasped in his ear, and put his hand on Lucius’ knee. “I  
prefer something more mature, myself. Boys, they have no idea.”

Lucius stilled for a moment. Then he removed the man’s hand forcefully. “Keep your hands to yourself,” he said.

“Why?” He was only slightly older than Lucius, his dark hair perfumed and oiled and falling in delicate curls around his pretty face, smiling invitingly. Like a woman, he was wearing a set of fine, thin garments the colour of amethyst and sapphire, several rings on his fingers and even a bracelet.

“What do you mean ‘why’, you pervert?”

“Believe me, I will satisfy you in ways you can’t even imagine.” “Thanks, I’ll pass.”  
The man smiled. “Are you sure?” He glanced at Cassianus, smirking. “That youth you so admire knows nothing of the ways to please a man,” he whispered seductively. “No boy his age does. Their passions are quick to ignite and even quicker to quench, and they have no patience for their partner’s pleasure.”

Lucius grimaced. “Look, I’m not interested.”

“Is he bothering you?” Cassianus stood over Lucius, frowning forbiddingly and looking so disapproving, Lucius was reminded of one of those formidable old men of the Republic. Someone like Cato the Elder perhaps, only a lot younger - and prettier.

Lucius pushed the man away. “Not really.”   
The man stood up gracefully. “You don’t know what you’re missing,” he said, winking. “If you change your mind, I’ll be over there, watching you.” He walked towards a space two columns away, sashaying a lot.

Lucius sighed. That’s why he preferred women’s advances. They were full of coy glances, maybe sending a small letter or two, but they weren’t that assertive and could recognise a refusal. Men were… He sighed again.

But all his annoyance vanished the moment Cassianus sat next to him, so close that if Lucius moved a little their shoulders and arms would touch. He moved, and when Cassianus didn’t flinch or pull away, he dared move closer.

“You are cold,” Cassianus said.

He was? He felt hot, burning hot and Cassianus’ skin was not cool enough to lower the fever that seemed to grip him. “It’s the rain.” The rain that showed no signs of stopping, and the wind that had picked up and bringing stray droplets their way.

“I like the rain.” Cassianus smiled a little. “Though I’m beginning to wish for a hot bath afterwards.”

Lucius smiled. If Fortune was good to him, in a few more days Cassianus would forget all about his madness and desire to be ‘a good slave’ and would be happy to do what he liked, as a free person should do. “I’d say we could go to the Baths afterwards, but you wouldn’t join me, would you?”

“True.”

“You know,” he said, keeping his voice low, “if you were an Athenian, you’d be finishing with your training as an ephebus now, and you’d have to show to the whole city what you’ve learned during the time you’d spent running around, learning to fight and argue in the gymnasium. They have this ceremony at the end, where all the youths perform together.” He grinned. “I bet they are half-naked when they do that.”

“What is your point?”

“That, you could give the Baths another try. I’ll be there and, this time, I’ll make sure no one bothers you. We don’t have to go to one of the big, popular ones, like Trajan’s or Titus’. We could go to…” No, they couldn’t go to Charinus’. “There are so many small ones, I bet there’s even one around here. What do you say?”

Cassianus frowned, clearly not understanding.

“If we go to a small establishment, no one will ‘call you pretty’ or anything. And, well, you shouldn’t be ashamed of your body, or of being seen. The Greeks you so admire do train naked, as you well know. Or is it because you’re a Christian?”

“No just for that. My Father, that’s how we call the priest,” he explained the moment Lucius frowned in confusion, “He says that the Baths are the place where the devil can tempt us. Baths were men and women bathe together are prohibited, but even without women present, temptation still waits. Hot water, massages, perfumes, nakedness, all can lead to lust.”

What a sad lot these Christians were; denying themselves of life’s simplest luxuries for what? A chance at a life after death? “Do you honestly believe that?”

Cassianus looked at him helplessly. “I don’t know. I’ve only used the baths in my… my Father’s house, and my sister’s and Marcus’, before you made me,” he looked down, “took me to Trajan’s Baths,” he corrected himself, staring at him again. “I’m not used to being looked at, and so far, I haven’t found the experience very pleasant. One cannot be tempted when one feels no pleasure.”

Lucius bit his lips. Cassianus was almost pouting again. The worst part was knowing that he wasn’t being accused. He could see that. Of course Lucius had made him, had forced him to do something he hated, but what had happened there was not Lucius’ fault.

“At home, it was different. I never minded the house-slaves, because they knew me and they were always around, and they never really looked at me. But those men. Their eyes. It was worse than going out to do the shopping.” Cassianus sighed, smiling. “I’m complaining again instead of being grateful.”   
“I shouldn’t have made you go,” he sighed as well, “but, it will be different this time.”  
Cassianus snorted and turned away, towards the garden. He still leaned on the column, but not on Lucius. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of your body,” he said again, shifting so he could be close to Cassianus again.  
“Are you like the Jews when it comes to nudity? Someone had told me that when God first made man and woman, they knew no shame, but then something happened, and they realised they were naked, and felt shame. Is it like that?” He didn’t mention that the ‘someone’ was a Jewish girl from a family that had adopted Greek ways, and she’d been mocking the religion of her forefathers after having slept with him. Ah, to be fifteen again. Those were the days.

“It is. To be seen naked is shameful. To see nakedness is shameful.” Cassianus made a soft, tired noise. “It’s all a bit disgusting. Naked parts dangling. It all looks good in statues, when nothing moves, but in humans?”

From where he sat, he could see into the temple and straight at the statue of Venus. The goddess was half- naked, caught in the act of dressing herself, bending slightly down to pick up her garment with one hand, while she covered her breasts with the other. Her golden hair shone in the half-darkness as much as her pale skin. May she give him strength.

“What are you? Twelve? Dangly bits are good.”

Cassianus turned towards him again, his expression one of utter incredulity and some affront.

But his legs hit Lucius’, and as far as Lucius was concerned, that was neither graceful nor controlled. He liked it. “Ow,” he said exaggerating the pain that he’d hardly felt. He took the opportunity to push Cassianus’ legs away - gods, his skin was soft, with hair so light he wished he could touch him again. “What? It’s the truth.”

“How so?”

“Well, no God would be so cruel as to make us feel pleasure and then say it was bad. If he wanted us to feel bad, or nothing, he could have made our bodies without being able to feel desire, or lust, or the sweet release that comes when two people sleep together. Or,” he smiled slyly, “when a man does what men do, when there’s no one around and they can’t help themselves.”

Cassianus scrunched his nose in distaste.

“What? Don’t tell me that you think it would have been better if I had sated my desire on Hermione, or some other slave, or a prostitute. I know that many think that it is unseemly for a man to have to use his hand for pleasure, but it’s natural. I know it’s somewhere in Aristotle and he says it’s natural.” Which he knew was the truth, because the older boys from his gymnasium had read it out loud one day, after sneaking away from training. And then they had practiced to see if friction really caused pain as well as pleasure, but all Lucius could remember was the pleasure.

“History of Animals, book nine,” Cassianus muttered.

“You’d know that,” he smirked, and Cassianus blushed and avoided his gaze. “Furthermore,” he smiled, and softened his tone, trying to catch Cassianus’ eyes and smiling even more kindly when the young man looked at him shyly, “why did god make us appreciate beauty and think it good, if he did not want us to enjoy it and take pride in it? If he really wanted us to be ashamed of our bodies, he would have made us all ugly, or unaware of beauty. Since he did not, does that not mean that we have to accept that our bodies are natural, and we shouldn’t be ashamed of them, nor hide them behind clothes when the situation demands it?”

Cassianus made another soft sound. “What you say makes sense, yet, when you say that we should be without clothes when the situation demands it, doesn’t that mean that being clothed or not is not dependent upon natural law, but the law of men? And since the law of men is arbitrary and according to culture, then it is just as acceptable for me to prefer being clothed, since I believe that nakedness is shameful because God commanded it.”

“God didn’t command it. It was man and woman who felt it.” What had Melitte said after that? Had god reproached them for their nakedness or clothed them in compassion? One or the other, and both had seemed un-godlike to her. “Look at children,” he said. “If their tutors or parents didn’t run after them all the   
time, they would be happy to run around naked. They feel no shame in their condition, and they don’t care about hiding their bodies in clothes. Some can’t even tolerate them.” Like him, if what his Father had once told him was true. “And I can’t think of anyone more pure, or closer to nature than children.”

Cassianus sighed. “No matter what you say, and I admit that what you say is reasonable, I still don’t like being seen.”

Surely that was the kind Goddess of Love who had inspired him to help him in his plight, if Cassianus saw reason in what he said. But her help could only go that far. That Cassianus didn’t mention pleasure either worried him.

“What if we went to my sister’s place?” Cassianus suddenly said. “I know it’s not near, but she will be happy that I ask her help. She already makes me go there before the liturgy so I can be clean and presentable to our brothers and sisters.” He smiled. “She’s like Marcus. It’s easier to agree to her demands.”

“I thought you hated taking charity from her.” “Indeed, but I hate being dirty even more.”  
Lucius smiled. “As soon as the rain stops, we can go there.” He shot a triumphant glance to the man, who hadn’t stopped watching him, and whose expression had grown increasingly envious the more he talked to Cas. “Told you I’m not interested,” he mouthed.

“What?”

“Nothing. Nothing. Isn’t the rain just lovely?”

Cassianus frowned. Poor boy probably thought him mad. But if he was, it was because of Cas. And only when his love was returned he would be cured. He smiled again, and pushed Cassianus a little, so they could both turn around and watch the rain. He kept leaning against the column, and a moment later, Cassianus leaned against him.

This time, he kept his smile hidden. No matter how long it took, he’d teach Cassianus love.

&*&*

When the slave announced that they were there, Lady Julia came out to greet them herself. She was an attractive woman, and her love for her brother made her even more beautiful. She kissed and hugged Cassianus, looking over his shoulder at Lucius like he was the kindest of men. Then she sent him away. “You will not stand at the entrance like a beggar,” she said, pushing him forward.

Cassianus laughed, and let a girl guide him inside.

Julia then turned her attention on Lucius. “You convinced him to accept my help.” She bowed a little. “I am grateful. Whatever you wish of me, just ask for it.” She gestured forward and started guiding him to the house.

Lucius sighed as he fell into step next to her. “I only wish to see him reconciled with his father. If he’d shown me the slightest hint he wants him back, I would have returned him immediately.” That wasn’t a lie. He stopped and looked at her. “Until then, believe me, Lady, I will treat him with the same love and affection that I have for my brother.” That was. His love was far from brotherly, but true, nonetheless.

Julia smiled brightly. “If you mean that, then, I swear I will do anything that is in my power to help you, no matter what you want, or what you need.”

“You trust too easily, Lady,” he smiled.

She stared at him. “Perhaps.” She smiled back. “It’s better to trust than spend one’s life worrying about others. And I trust you spoke the truth, and will not hurt my brother.”

Lucius frowned. “You mean that.”

“I do.” She took his hand. “Marcus wrote to me that you begged him for my brother’s books. You let yourself   
be hurt for such a thing,” she sighed. “Such a stupid, stupid thing as books.” “But he likes them,” Lucius said immediately. “He…”  
“That’s why I know I can trust you,” she smiled.

Lucius had nothing to say to that, so he just smiled. What would Julia think if he told her he wanted to seduce her brother, and then take him to Athens? What did Christians think about relationships between men? She must have known of her brother’s relationship with Marcus, one based on the model of Greek love with an older man ostensibly taking the lead, but being bound by passion by the youth he’d chosen at the same time, his desire controlled by pure love and the need to make the youth as good a man as possible. They didn’t know such niceties; for them, one could either fuck or be fucked. For the Greeks, one was erastes, and the other eromenos, lover and beloved.

He sighed. The East was haunting him. He’d been born and raised there, grew up speaking both languages, or three, if one counted the Hebrew he’d picked up when he was young, and now, he seemed to find himself in a relationship like the one the boys in his gymnasium sometimes talked about. One where the older man was dragged around by his desire as if leashed, and the younger man didn’t even notice, cold and pure and unwilling to submit to his lover’s lustful advances. And unlike the boys in his gymnasium, who only spoke of modesty and practiced none when it was dark, Cassianus was truly pure and modest. It just wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t he have a nice and easy relationship with someone the Roman way?

“Is something the matter?”

“I’m not feeling well,” he said. “Perhaps I was out in the rain for too long.”

Julia looked at him sympathetically. “The cure to that is soaking in a hot tub. Sophia. Guide Lucius to the bath, please.”

Lucius grimaced and waved the girl away. “I think Cassianus wanted to use the baths. That’s why we came here,” he said as embarrassed as possible, and wishing they had more than a tub for washing at home. And even though he wanted, he wouldn’t intrude upon Cassianus’ bath.

She laughed. “That explains it. Juli is worse than a cat,” she said. “Always has been, always will.”  
“A cat?” It made him think of that old witch. Had Julia ever been told to kill one for a spell? Probably not. “Unusual pet, I know, but they are just so charming. They have limitless curiosity but at the same time, they  
hold no grudges. We had this parakeet once, brought all the way from India and…” His distaste for the hag must have shown, but Julia misunderstood its cause, thank all the gods, and thought he simply didn’t like cats. She continued her story of their jealous and vindictive parakeet that would scream so much, they had to keep its cage under a piece of cloth all the time, until she stopped in front of a door. “And now you’ll go soak  
in the bath, if you know what’s good for you.” She even pushed him inside, and closed the door behind him.

Lucius stood still. He hadn’t expected someone so dignified, soft-spoken and calm like Julia to actually touch him, and push him inside the building. It was just so childish, and he couldn’t believe it. He tried to open the door, but Julia must have locked it from outside. Fuck.

He sighed, and sat on the bench that ran across the room, leaning down and covering his head with his hands. He was trying to behave himself, and show control, but even his control had limits. It was one thing pretending he didn’t want Cas when he was dressed, but how would he do that naked? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Master?”

Lucius looked up. A beautiful young man with long brown hair and dressed only in a loincloth studied him. “Do you need help disrobing?” he said, reaching for him.  
“I don’t.”

“As Master wishes,” he said and knelt down, helping Lucius with his sandals.

Lucius looked around. There were four niches on the walls, with marble craters covered in ivy and vines   
heavy with grapes instead of statues of Salus or Aesculapius, or athletes. The walls were covered in pink and yellow and the floors in blue, all pale and almost faded. “These must be Lady Julia’s favourite colours,” he said.

The slave laughed a little. “You think?” he said without any respect, as he stood up. “They’re a bit girly, aren’t they?” he whispered conspiratorially.  
He nodded. “It’s like living in a confectioner’s shop,” he sighed. “But,” and there his expression was full of reverence, “it’s also like living in heaven.”

Lucius shook his head, smiling. “Don’t tell me. You’re a Christian.” “We all are,” he nodded proudly. “This way.”  
Lucius followed him inside a room so pink, his eyes hurt. The only different colours came from the glass- paste mosaic of Venus rising from the sea sitting on a shell, but even there the shell was made from tesserae in various pink hues, from the palest coral pink to a rosy red. “What’s your name?” he said as the slave started oiling him slowly.

“Alethes.” “Truthful, eh?”  
“Mistress gave us all names to remind us of the virtues that lead to the right way.”

“I see.” That worried him a bit. Julia seemed sane, and not as preachy as her brother, but now he thought that maybe she was just as obsessed with her faith as Cassianus. Perhaps she hid it better. What if they wanted him to become Christian before he could pursue Cassianus? He wasn’t sure if he liked this cult. Finding shame in what was beautiful, not eating meat, praying until he didn’t want to have sex? That wasn’t for him.

He let Alethes move him this way and that as he oiled him and cleaned him with the strigil, and then he slid into the pool. The water had just the right temperature, neither too warm, nor too cold, and he closed his eyes. If this was what Cassianus had had, no wonder he’d never stepped into a public bath. True, the bath was not as big or luxurious was that of Nero’s, but who cared about that when one could have perfectly good water, a clean floor and all the peace and quiet he could have wanted?

When he opened his eyes again, he was all alone. He got out of the pool and moved to the next room. That one was mostly pale blue, with baby tritons riding pale, white waves that turned into horses on the walls. But this time he didn’t complain, because Cassianus was happily resting in the middle of the pool, and when he opened his eyes, all the blue from the room seemed to make his eyes even bluer. He jumped in the pool before his manhood betrayed him and ducked his head in the warm water when he heard Cassianus laugh at the waves his entry had created.

Cassianus was still smiling when he resurfaced. “Wasn’t I right? Isn’t a hot bath the best thing after the rain?” “It is.”  
He closed his eyes, and tilted his head back. “This is my favourite thing. Perhaps you’re right about God and pleasure. He wouldn’t make us feel it if he didn’t want us to.” He took a deep breath. “Or maybe he did, so  
we can deny temptation better. Is this sloth?” “Washing up?”  
“Soaking. Doing nothing.”

“Resting is good for you. For everyone. Didn’t your god ever rest?”

“He did, but in commemorating that day, we spend it in praise, not rest.” “And what do you do?”   
Cassianus didn’t answer him.

“I bet you sing and dance and do whatever you have to do, but you don’t work.” Of course, that was a bit stupid to say to someone who’d never worked in his life before Lucius came into it, but perhaps even rich, spoilt children thought that what they did was work.

“Something like that,” he conceded lazily. “There you are. You rest.”  
“But I could have been working now.”

Lucius snorted. “Supervising Marcus’ workmen? Stop it, Cas. You need to rest before you can start working. You really looked awful before you went to Marcus’ villa outside Rome.”

“You called me ‘Cas’,” Cassianus said, sounding alert.

“So what? The Greeks do it all the time. They shorten names and call each other with their nick-names. It’s not a bad habit.” He grinned. “I much prefer calling my sweetheart ‘Rina, than ‘my little melon’.” He opened his eyes, to find Cassianus sitting up and studying him. “It’s the truth. And, well, I grew up in Judaea and then spent time in Syria and Asia. What’s your sister’s excuse? She keeps calling you ‘Juli’.”

“We had Greek tutors since before we could speak,” he huffed. “And Julia can do as she likes.” “But I can’t? Am I not a free man?”  
“You are.” “Then?”  
Cassianus frowned. “Nothing.” He sat down, surprised. “I don’t even know why we’re arguing. I don’t mind. You, calling me ‘Cas.’”

Lucius grinned. “Glad to hear that.” He stood up, glad that some part of him was showing some self-control, because he felt like singing, or maybe hugging Cas. “Up. If you stay here too long, you’ll get dizzy and faint.”

Cas smirked. “I won’t.”

Lucius grabbed his hand and pulled him out, surprised at how little resistance he put. He then dragged him into the room with the cold pool and threw him in. That made Cas sputter, climb out of the pool and throw him in. Lucius fell, laughing, and thinking that he had told the truth after all: he was treating Cassianus the same way he’d have treated Gaius in this situation. And as Cass splashed him with water that was dreadfully cold, he realised that he was no longer Cas’ master, and that Cas didn’t see him as his master either. He wasn’t sure if Cas saw him as a friend, but he hoped he wouldn’t become the young man’s slave in the end.

He really had to read Phaedrus. If Plato couldn’t guide him on his way to love, then who would?

&*&*

“Maybe I was dizzy,” Cas said a little later, after they had stopped being childish, had retreated to the first room and were soaking in the pool. “That wasn’t like me.”

“Ever?” The idea of Cas being a serious little boy all the time made him sad for some reason.

“Sometimes, with Titus. He was so tall, or maybe I was so small, and he’d lift me up into the sky. I thought I could touch the sun.” He smiled, letting his head rest on the edge of the pool. “He’d throw me up, and then catch me.”

“I did that with Gaius. I remember, he’d scream and scream and beg me to put him down, but when I did, he’d come climbing on me, pull my hair and say, ‘again.’” He snorted. “He was demanding, even when he was little.”

Cas made an amused sound. “That sounds like Cassius. He was awful. If I tell you something, promise not to   
tell anyone?” “Of course.”  
“He used to make me kneel and then he’d climb on me, and try to ride. Go, go, horsey.” Cas repressed his laughter for a moment or two. “But that was our secret, because Cassius had said that if Father found out, or anyone else, they’d punish us both, and wouldn’t let us keep our ponies.”

Lucius snorted. Poor children. No one had ever punished them when Gaius climbed on his back and made him ride across the yard. But he’d never made Gaius his horsey. “Why did you let him do that to you?”

“Because afterwards, he let me ride him.” Cas managed to suppress his laughter more successfully this time. “He was a very good horse.” He made a strange sound, and when Lucius opened his eyes, he saw him staring at the ceiling. “There were eight of us, and now there’s just me and Julia. Titus, Julianus, Julius the First, Juliana, and then there was Julia and Cassius and me.”

“Do you miss them?”

“I never met Julianus, or Julius or Juliana, so, I don’t miss them. And it’s been so long since Cassius died.” He sighed. “I miss Titus. It’s been two years, and I keep thinking I shouldn’t miss him so much, but there are nights I wake up and he’s not there to talk to me, or days that are good for riding and he’s not there to join me and…” He sighed again, and slid out of the pool.

Lucius looked away, determined to give Cas as much privacy as he could. Not because Cas was shy. Because he still didn’t trust himself if he saw the young man naked.

“It’s stupid,” he said, and when Lucius turned around, he saw him lying down on a bed covered with soft, white towels. Alethes was back, carefully expressionless and professionally silent. While Alethes poured oil slowly on Cassianus’ back, he stared at Lucius, head cushioned on his folded arms. “Days good for riding,” he snorted.

“If it were up to me,” he started.

“That’s not what I meant,” Cas looked embarrassed as he cut him off. “Or maybe I did,” he said more softly. He closed his eyes, and turned his head to the side. “We did that a lot last week, Marcus and I. Riding. It was nice.”

Horses were expensive. He got out of the pool and dried himself briskly with a towel. When Alethes stared at him insulted, he smiled. “I want this,” he mouthed. “Let me.” He finished, and lay down on the other bed. The towels were softer than he expected, and that made him smiled a little.

Cassianus shifted, and turned around. Lucius only watched for a moment, eyes trailing down pale, firm flesh, past the dip of his flat stomach to rest where his genitals swelled gently beneath the towel. He closed his eyes, afraid that his true desire could be read in them.

“Alethes, leave us,” he said sharply. “Please,” he added in a softer tone. “I need to find another place to worship,” he said a little later, when Lucius supposed they were alone. “Being here reminds me of what I lost. I can’t learn how to be humble if I keep missing things.” He said ‘missing’ like it was a curse.

“Maybe this is the temptation you have to wrestle with,” Lucius said looking at him. Cas had sat up, and he really looked like a statue, skin polished and gleaming in the light. So, they all had to wrestle with something, like he had to deal with desire, a desire he could not express until Cas was ready for it.

“You think so?”

He shrugged. “You’re the one who believes in fighting temptation. I believe in getting the most out of life. Days good for riding,” he snorted. “I never had a pony, or a horse, and I learned how to ride because people like to indulge little kids in army camps. Soldiers are good people, you know. Here, it’s like they’re a  
nuisance. Out of sight, out of mind, except when they win, and then the emperor and his generals gets all the glory.”

Cas shifted, uncomfortable.   
“I’m just saying, take what you’re given and don’t be so guilty about it. You’re lucky to have a sister who adores you, a friend who loves you and they want you to be happy. And I know I’m not rich enough to take you for riding in my villa in the countryside, but you could have been training as a gladiator in the barracks right now, or have a place in Commodus’ brothel, so…” He sighed, cursing himself when he saw Cas lean back and hold on to the bed, paler than usual.

“But it’s easier when I don’t have to see this,” he said a while later, gesturing a little around him.

Lucius smirked. “Now you know how those poor people feel when they go to the Baths and are surrounded by naked people. They probably feel that they’ll never be as beautiful, or never have a partner as beautiful, or that they want someone like that, or who knows what else they might feel.”

For some reason Cas looked even more dejected. He stared at him, until Cas explained. “I’m a really bad person, feeling no compassion for those so tempted by envy and desire, seeing the splinter in my fellows’ eyes and unable to see the log in my own eyes.” He took the vessel that Alethes had left behind and poured some oil in his hands. “I will try to correct myself.”

Lucius shook his head, sighing. “That’s not what I meant.”

“But that is the truth,” he said as he knelt so that he could look at Lucius straight in the eyes. “You are right; it is better to fight against temptation than run away from it.” He stood up and moved behind him. “You are a good Master. Teach me how to be a good slave, so I may serve God better,” he said.

Lucius flinched, both from the words and the sudden sense of oil trickling down his spine. A moment later he froze, feeling Cas’ pleasantly warm and slick hands touch him tentatively. It was better than anything else, just because it was Cas. “I don’t want you to be a slave,” he said, feeling dizzy. Cas’ touch was tender, and soft, but insistent. Julia had been right; Cas was like a cat, kneading his back with light pressure, like he was caressing him. Like he didn’t know his own strength, or was afraid of it, like he didn’t know what Lucius could tolerate, like….

“What do you want, then?”

“For you to be yourself. When I want slaves I buy them.” He turned his head around, and opened his eyes. “You were a gift I don’t deserve.” Cas stopped massaging him and he swallowed, not knowing what to say next. That he’d be gentle? Cautious? Kind? Words were easy and meant nothing unless backed by deeds, and he’d rather show Cas than tell him. And anyway, ‘I’ll be gentle’ was what he said to skittish virgins as he laid them on his bed. He had to save something for when that moment came.

Cassianus lowered his head and resumed his soft kneading of Lucius’ muscles, obviously focusing on what  
Lucius had said, and not what he was doing. But Lucius didn’t mind. It was still the best thing ever.

**********

Gaius was slightly annoyed when they came back. “Did you enjoy yourselves?” he said the moment they were alone in the courtyard.

“Greatly.” He grinned and gave him the basket that Julia had insisted he took with him. “I brought food, as  
Lady Julia ordered.”  
“Don’t try to appease me.” He opened it and looked inside. “It’s for your philosopher, isn’t it?” he smirked. “It’s for everyone.” Cassianus had made such a fuss after they had left Julia’s house that his promising to  
share and distribute it evenly was the only way to make him shut up. He grinned. “He wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Gaius’ expression didn’t change. “Are you sure you’re not in love? Because you look like it.”

“I’m not,” he started protesting. But why? “Actually, I am,” he said, looking towards the room that had become Cassianus’ library, and where Cassianus had hurried the moment they stepped into the house. “I really am. Imagine that,” he snorted depreciatingly.

Gaius stared at him open-mouthed. “You’re what?” He gasped, eyes widening a lot. “Really?”   
“Really.” He nodded, enjoying his brother’s surprised expression. Would Gaius’ eyes get any bigger? “Don’t tell me you didn’t expect that.”

“I was joking,” he said, still looking surprised.

“What’s the matter, brother? You not happy for me?”

Gaius opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. “I am,” he said, frowning in surprised annoyance. “How could you think that? It’s just…”

He grinned. “Gotcha.”

“You…” Gaius put the basket down and tried to hit him. When Lucius blocked him, he tried again. And again, until they were chasing each other around the courtyard, though Lucius couldn’t tell who was chasing whom any more.

After a couple of rounds Gaius caught him and fell on top of him. “You really are annoying,” he said, cuffing him lightly on the forehead before sliding off him. He lay down, grinning.

Lucius looked towards Cassianus, standing at the entrance of the room, and staring at them with a fond, almost-smile. “I wasn’t lying,” he whispered.

Gaius sat up. He followed Lucius’ gaze, and nodded in understanding. “And I meant it. I’m happy for you.” “But?”  
“Nothing.” “Say it.”  
Gaius glanced towards Cassianus. “Don’t say it.”  
Gaius snorted and got up. “Your sister must think we’re not feeding you,” he said, grinning and going towards  
Cas. “The carpenter said the bookcases will be done in a few days. Since you didn’t leave any instructions as to the colour of wood you prefer, Marcus can make the decision for you. Or so the carpenter suggested.”

“I see. Can I send them a message to thank them for all their work”? “Why don’t you do that when they’re finished?”  
“Do it tomorrow,” Lucius said. It was the time people went to dinner, and the idea of letting Cas out, unsupervised, to deliver a message when men went out to enjoy themselves didn’t appeal much.

“I’ll do it,” offered Gaius with a smile that made Lucius suspicious. “I will not tolerate refusal,” he said sounding stern and masterly, but with an even wider grin. His brother was planning something.

Cas lowered his head, smiling ever so softly. “As you wish.”

“Good.” He stood next to Cas, raised his hand to clap him in the arm, or back, but then changed his mind. “I’ll give you tablets and everything else you need. Come. Lucius?”

“What?”

“Aniketos came by. Complained that you’ve forgotten your comrades.” “Fine, I’ll go there tomorrow. Will you join me?”  
“I saw him today,” he complained. He stopped at the other side of the courtyard. “Why don’t you and  
Cassianus go together?”

He frowned. “I’m… I don’t think it’s a good idea.”   
“Perhaps the emperor will change his mind once he starts hearing that Cassianus started going to the barracks. Come to think of it, you should take him to the Games too. Have you ever been to the Games?”

Cas grimaced.

“Cas?” Lucius said, and Cas turned towards him immediately. “Why don’t you go to Gaius’ room for the writing material you want?”

Cas didn’t wait for a confirmation from Gaius. “Are you mad? He hates the Games.”  
“I’m trying to help you,” Gaius said in a low, exasperated tone. “Get you to spend more time with him.” He sighed. “But he will hate it.”  
“Not if he loves you.” “Eh?”  
Gaius grinned. “He knows who you are and what you did, he might as well see how you lived. That way, he will love all of you.”

Lucius glared at his brother. “You just want him out of the house so you can read his books, don’t you?” Gaius laughed. “Me? You accuse me of such conniving plots?”  
“I do.”

“You really are the most ungrateful of brothers.” Instead of leaving, Gaius approached him and tried to hit him again.

Within moments, they were chasing each other again, and Lucius couldn’t have loved his brother more for his acceptance.

&*&*

In the morning, after the prayers and some food, Lucius decided that he would take Cas with him to the barracks. Perhaps he was doing exactly as Gaius wanted, but his brother did have a point. If Cassianus was to love him, he should love all of him. Of course, Cas already thought Lucius was a good man, but who was to say that he wouldn’t tell him that gladiators were lower than dirt afterwards?

He sighed, knowing he made little sense, even to himself. He felt Gaius wanted to be left alone so he could read, but he also felt that this was right. Cas thought him good, but didn’t really know him. Being a gladiator had been more than a job for him. Cas had to acknowledge and understand that. And if Cas decided that Lucius was no good after all, he’d rather have it sooner rather than later.

Or maybe he just wanted to spend more time with Cas, who stared up at the sky wondering if it would rain, and whose eyes reflected the gathering, grey clouds.

Gaius cleared his voice. “Why don’t you go buy some honey cakes from Daphne? Knowing Lucius, he’ll start complaining about his empty stomach even before you reach the Barracks.” He handed Cas the money and stayed silent until he left. “He’s adorable,” he grinned as soon as they were alone. “Look.” He showed Lucius the tablets.

“You opened them? You read them?” “He never sealed them.”  
“Because he trusted you.”

Gaius snorted. “Then he’s a fool.”   
Lucius glared at him.

“Don’t you want to know what he wrote?” “I don’t.”  
“Are you sure?” He waved them in front of Lucius. When he realised that Lucius wouldn’t take them, he opened the first. “Cassianus to his dearest sister Julia.”

“Stop it.”

Gaius stuck his tongue out and continued. “I fear my written words will have as much effect on you as my spoken ones, yet I must write and ask you once more to give me nothing, or if you must give, then give to those who need it. I do not. Lucius, since you insist I call him thus, and not Master, as I ought, feeds me and clothes me, and…”

“If you won’t stop, then,” he put his hands on his ears. “I’m not listening.”

Gaius ignored him. “And I have no need of your charity. However, my fellow-slaves do need winter clothes, so if you still desire to be charitable, appropriate garments for them would be welcome.”

“Shut up.”

Gaius closed the tablet, laughing. “As you wish.”

Lucius glared, even as he lowered his hands. “And the other two?” “One is for Marcus’ carpenter, and the other is for Marcus.”  
“Hm.”

Gaius smirked. “Should I read that one, perhaps?” He shook his head.  
“He doesn’t say anything bad. He’s just grateful and thankful, and calls you Lucius,” Gaius smiled. “Without any prompting.”

When he looked at his brother, Gaius laughed again. “Your face. You look so hopeful.” He kept laughing. “I  
can’t believe you fell in love.” “I hate you, I really hate you.”  
“You shouldn’t hate your brother,” Cas chastised him.

Lucius turned around. “I have my reasons,” he said. “And I didn’t mean it. Much.” “Oh.”  
“Just ignore him, Cas. He’s an idiot,” Lucius said, grabbing Cas by the arm and leading him outside.

He only realised that he was holding him when he needed to free his hand to eat a cake, but was more surprised that Cas hadn’t said a word about it.

&*&*

When they arrived at the barracks and walked into the arena, everyone stopped training. Lucius knew he was popular among his fellow gladiators, but he had no idea how much, until they all came towards him, an undisciplined, laughing, and making rude jokes army that almost smothered him. Aniketos hugged him so tightly, Lucius was afraid his ribs were cracked. Saturnilos punched him in the back, Achilles hit him playfully on the shoulder, and by the end they had all finished greeting him, Lucius suspected his skin had changed colour. Even the new recruits had tried to touch him for good luck, and Cyrus and Gryllos banded together   
and managed to kiss him droolingly on the cheeks of his face, while they groped the cheeks of his ass. Vile creatures.

But he endured it all with grace and didn’t threaten them too much, or break any of their bones. In fact, he was amused, and hadn’t realised that he had missed it. Not the thoughts of impending death, but the easy friendship and the lack of control in their behaviour. When they wanted to hug, they hugged. When they wanted to swear, they did so. They knew each other, and had no need for lying. He missed that, though not enough to sign up again.

He’d have friends outside too. Someday.

Symmachos glared at him for a while. Then he snorted. “Go and talk to your friends elsewhere,” he said.

If he said so. Lucius guided Aniketos and Saturnilos towards a side of the arena, where they wouldn’t disturb the men practicing with their talking, nor get in their way.

“You’ve forgotten us now that you’re free,” Aniketos complained.

“You look well. Did you hook up with that pretty lady?” Saturnilos asked him. “One question at the time, brothers.”  
“Mine was a statement,” Aniketos said, eyes gleaming. “Answer the man.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t. The lady, as far as I know, still lives with her family.” “Pity. She was beautiful. And rich.”  
Aniketos snorted. “A slave, though.”

Lucius grinned. Gossipy fellows, both of them.

“What you need is to find yourself a rich, old widow,” Aniketos said. “You live next to the Portico of Livia. It must be full of them. Have you been going there diligently, day after day, to find your prey?”

Lucius smiled.

“Really, Deimos. Your looks and luck won’t last forever.” “You know how to make a man feel happy.”  
Aniketos snorted. “I’d set you up with Phila. The gods know she’s old and rich enough,” he laughed. “But you made an enemy of her, even though I managed to persuade her not to take vengeance upon you.”

Lucius nodded, and looked thankful. She’d take vengeance upon him how? By killing another cat? He was better off away from the witch. To Saturnilos he shook his head. “Long story,” he muttered.

“Aniketos is right, Deimos. Now that you’re free and you’ve had your share of ladies, you should settle down, and have a family.”

“Not you too.”

Saturnilos shrugged. “Venus was kind to me,” he said, smiling. “Who would want to be with you?”  
Saturnilos slapped him. They all laughed. “I see you’re practicing for the Games,” Lucius said.

“That’s what we always do,” Saturnilos told him. “You should come see us. If you had a pretty sweetheart, I’d tell you to leave the city and go spend the winter with her in a secluded farmhouse, but since you don’t.”

“You should,” Aniketos said as well. “I’ll arrange it so that you won’t have to sit up there with the poor. You can come with us, and sit by the sides.”   
“You’ll have the best view in the place. Better than the emperor’s.”

“Tempting,” he grinned. The idea of going to the Games to fear his friends slaughtered was not that amusing, but if they laughed, he would laugh with them.

“And you should visit us more often.”

“Unless you have work to do. Did you start your own business?” Saturnilos asked. “Not yet.”  
“You spend your days in leisure?”

He grinned again. “Pursuing rich widows,” he lied.

“I don’t believe you,” Aniketos said a moment later. “If you had, you’d be lording it over us already.” “You don’t trust me? I’m hurt.”  
Aniketos snorted.

Saturnilos grinned. “Speaking of leisure, I noticed that you’re a man of some means now.” “What do you mean?”  
“Going around with a fancy slave like that.” He pointed towards the seats, where Cassianus was sitting without looking down, engrossed in a book. When had he taken that? Lucius hadn’t noticed.

“So what? Several slaves can read.”

“True, true,” Saturnilos said, smiling, “but a pretty one like that? He must have been expensive.”

“I thought Venus had been kind to you,” Lucius said forbiddingly. “If you’re trying to get me to ‘lend’ you my property, you should forget it now.”

“He’s touchy,” Saturnilos smirked, nudging Aniketos. “What’s wrong with sharing with your friends? Didn’t I  
buy you dinners, and drinks?” “Not really.”  
Symmachos coughed. “Leave him alone,” he said, smirking. “Can’t you see he’s so proud of his property, he had to drag it here? Though, Deimos, old friend, next time, buy one that likes gladiators.” He gestured towards the amphitheatre, empty at that hour from admirers. “Men fight their best when they are watched. And it’s very rude to bring here someone who shows no appreciation whatsoever for what we do.”

Lucius grimaced. “He prefers books.”

“I can see that,” Symmachos snorted. “I came to ask you, have you decided yet? Will you join us in teaching and preparing the new ones? They’re so hopeless, even you would be of some benefit to them.”

Lucius glared and Symmachos glared back. “Not yet,” he finally said. “Good. Take your time.” He left as suddenly as he had appeared. “What was that about?”  
Aniketos shrugged.

“He hates me,” he sighed.

“Maybe,” Saturnilos grinned, “but you don’t have to put up with him anymore. I say, start your own business. Importing exotic goods is always profitable.”   
“But the risk is great, and you need capital to start. Do you have enough for that?”

“Not sure. I left Gaius in charge of the accounts and buying off his freedom was expensive. Twice the cost of his contract, plus I had to cover all the loses from the games he would have appeared until the end of his service.” He sighed. “And then people think we live the good life.”

“But you’re free,” Aniketos pointed out. “And, look, your pretty thing is not as indifferent as he seemed a minute ago.”

Indeed, even Symmachos would find him deeply appreciative. Cassianus had put down his book, leaned forward and stared down at the arena with an expression of deep concentration. Lucius turned to see what had caught his attention. Oh.

Pinnas was on his knees in front of Diomedes, who pointed the tip of his wooden sword at his neck. But Symmachos pointed a real sword at Pinnas’ back. “That’s it,” he shouted at Pinnas. “Stay still, and die like a man.”  
Saturnilos sighed. “One of these days, someone will get tired of his shouting and fall back just to spite him.” “It’s not easy training a man to die properly,” Lucius said, fighting bile down his throat. This was one part of  
his training that he had forgotten as soon as he could.

“Put your hands behind your back, or at the front.” When Pinnas failed to comply, Symmachus whacked him with the flat of his blade. “You will not die like a coward,” he said. He kicked him down, and shouted towards the men. “People come to see you fight and die well. You will not disgrace me, yourselves, or the emperor with a cowardly death, you hear me?”

Cassianus looked far too interested in the proceedings and Lucius didn’t like it. The last thing he wanted was  
Cas to lecture him on the vileness of gladiators and everything they did. He’d probably say something like  
‘you are so inhuman, you have to train yourselves not only to kill, but also be killed.’ “I should go home,” he said. “I left Gaius alone, and who knows what he’ll do.”

“Knowing him, nothing,” Aniketos snorted. His stomach rumbled at just that moment.  
Saturnilos clapped him in the back. “Your belly is like the Danaids’ jar. No matter how much you feed it, it never fills.”

Lucius grinned.

“Come again, Deimos,” Aniketos told him.

Lucius waved them goodbye and gestured to Cassianus to meet him down. Cassianus stood up immediately and they met near the entrance.

Cassianus spoke before he could speak. “That was interesting.”

“Interesting how? I thought you hated the Games and all that,” he said, half-fearing the lecture that would follow.

“I did not know you learn not only how to fight but how to die as well. I knew of the oath you take, ‘to be burned, bound, beaten and put to death by the sword,’ but I thought that when it came to dying, it was because you found freedom in death that you submitted to it with such courage.”

Lucius frowned. “I thought you hated the Games,” he repeated, stunned.

“I do. I abhor them. Making a game of death,” he shivered. “Only humans are so cruel and clever as to devise such sport. But no one can deny a gladiator’s courage.” He smiled a little. “When our blessed brothers and sisters were martyred in Lyons a few years ago, they approached death un-practiced, unrehearsed, with courage fuelled by faith, and the love of God in their hearts to sustain them during their torture. Yet, you showed me that even courage in dying can be learned. It is interesting.” He looked at   
Lucius. “Next time you go to the Barracks, will you let me come with you?” “You’re not planning on learning how to die, are you?”  
Cas smiled.

“These… blessed brothers and sisters of yours, why were they put to death?” “Because they were Christians.”  
“Just for that?”

“It was enough.”

“You said they were tortured.”

“They were condemned to death at the beasts.”

Lucius shuddered. There was no worse death than that, except maybe crucifixion, but Cas was smiling beautifully, like it was the best of deaths. “If they were condemned to that,” he said carefully, “then it means they were criminals, enemies of law and people alike.”

“They were Christians, nothing more, nothing less.” Cas stared at him with disapproval.

“Then, why were they punished? What is it that you do that is so strange? All I have heard is rumours, that you don’t worship the emperor and that you commit all sorts of crimes when the lights are off.” He grinned. “Lustful crimes. That you have this feast and after that, anything goes. Familial bonds are no more, fathers sleep with daughters, and mothers with sons, and everyone sleeps with everyone indiscriminately.”

Cassianus’ expression was frozen in controlled anger, and Lucius had to smile. “Of course, you pray so that you won’t touch yourself, so maybe not every Christian is like that, but, really, what makes you a Christian? And what makes you people criminal?”

“Nothing,” Cassianus said slowly. “I refuse to explain to you anything while you mock…” “Wait,” he said, cutting him off. “I only want to understand.”  
“You’re not ready yet.” “How can you say that?”  
“You repeat lies and calumnies. If you were truly interested, you’d simply ask, what do we believe in, not accuse us first.” He sighed.

“Fine. Tell me, then. What do you believe in?” Cassianus looked at him with sadness.  
“No wonder people think you Christians are criminals. All I did was ask a question and what I got was refusals and denials and ‘you’re not ready yet’. You’re worse than the followers of Mithras, who have to hide in caves for their rites.”

Cassianus snorted.

Lucius snorted too, unable to stay angry at him.

“We do nothing criminal,” Cas told him a moment later. “We keep to God’s commandments, gather once a week to pray, and aim for virtue. That is all.”

“Then why do people hate you?”

“Because people like you spread rumours like that.” Cassianus still looked sad. “Words fly, and once they’re past the barrier of teeth, no one can contain them.” He sighed. “I don’t think you spread rumours,” he said   
looking contrite, “but…” “But?”  
“It hurts me when I see you’re so willing to believe such lies. Just because people are cruel and violent, willing to do anything for a life of limitless pleasure, must you believe the worst of them immediately? Not just you, everyone. Why can’t there be rumours that we are good, and fear God?”

“You said it yourself; people are cruel.”

“But you’re not like them. Why do you act like them?”

Lucius shrugged. What could he say when Cas looked at him like that, like he really believed he was different, and good?

Cas sighed again, and looked away. “I really don’t understand anything anymore.” Lucius had nothing to say to that either. “If you want, you can go live with Julia.”  
“Do you even listen to me? I want to stay with you,” Cassianus shouted, glaring at him. “It feels right,” he said softly a few minutes later, and his gaze had softened too, and was full of confusion. “Like, God took Titus away, but then He brought me to you, and…” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t understand anything.”

Cas stayed silent after, but Lucius didn’t mind. He really didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to be Titus’ replacement, but it was better than being considered prejudiced and hateful, a faithless person. And all that talk about martyrs? He didn’t like it much.

When they reached the house, there was a letter from Cassianus’ sister, so he let Cas read it in peace. He went to his room, climbed on the bed and picked up a book Gaius had left on his pillow. He smiled. A copy of Plato’s Phaedrus. He really loved his brother.

A few moments later, Cas came to him. “I think I hate my sister,” he muttered. “Punish me.” Lucius snorted.  
Cas smiled and sat on the ground by his feet. Lucius had the urge to run his fingers through his hair. So he did, and Cas lifted up his head and stared at him curiously, and a little strangely. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he said clearly without any words, and Lucius grinned. He didn’t even like cats much; how did he end up with one?

He handed him the book. “Here’s your punishment. Read to me.”

Cas nodded, and opened the scroll easily. “‘Dear Phaedrus, where are you going and where do you come from?

‘From Lysias, Socrates, the son of Cephalus. And I am going for walk outside the city walls, for I spent quite some time there sitting since the morning and now, persuaded by your friend and mine Akoumenos, I am taking my walk on the roads, for he says they are less tiring than the streets.’ ”

Lucius slid down and sat next to him. “I should read the part of Phaedrus, and you could read that of  
Socrates.”

“That is not fair. Everyone knows that once Socrates starts speaking, his friends or opponents are reduced to saying nothing but yes, of course, or how and what else.”

He grinned, and leaned back. “Have it your way, then. Read both parts, but do it well.” Cas snorted. “‘He speaks well, my friend,’” he continued.  
Lucius closed his eyes and let himself be lost in the words and the images they painted, of poor and ugly Socrates accompanied by his friend on a warm day, walking with their feet in cool water and seeking shelter underneath a tall plane tree by the river. Would the plane tree still stand? Would the river be the same, and   
its banks as pleasant to walk as then? Athens. They had to go there.  
&*&*

The only bad thing was that with Amycus and Antaeus away, Lucius couldn’t use the ‘there’s no space in your room’ excuse anymore. And even though Cas was around him all the time, he preferred to sleep alone at night. The bed seemed far too big for one, after that he’d started sharing it. But there wasn’t much he could do about it.

Same way he couldn’t do much about Cas’ just-discovered interest in gladiatorial training. The next morning Cas hounded him with questions, and in the end Lucius caved in, and took him back to the barracks. This time, he sat with him down in the arena and explained the system of numbered strikes and the differences of gladiatorial combat. And Cas was so attentive that Symmachos didn’t say a word. In fact, Symmachos didn’t even say a word against Lucius. Lucius didn’t know what that meant.

But he knew enough to know what his friends thought of his relationship with Cas the moment he sat down next to him. He saw the sly looks, and the rude gestures, and the mouthed encouragements, and ignored them all. Only, some things could not be ignored as easily.

Saturnilos was not the only one to suggest sharing Lucius’ pretty. Lucius mocked them and told them to fuck off as much as he could, while Cas looked haughtily uninterested, but during lunch break, a group cornered them, Saturnilos silent, but among them. Even with Aniketos by his side, he still couldn’t take them all. Symmachos, who could put an end to their arguments with just a shout, was nowhere to be seen.

“What cost a million sesterces is not for the likes of us, eh?” Tydeus sneered. “Leave him alone,” Lucius said.  
“I won’t. Is it so beneath you,” he turned and addressed Cassianus, “to attend to a friend of your master?” Cassianus stared at him arrogantly.  
“By Jove,” Hector laughed, “the poet was right. He is indignant that you should ask for anything.”

“It’s not ‘anything’, you sick,” Lucius didn’t finish. Eteokles and Victor, Tydeus’ cronies, grabbed him and held him back. Lucius couldn’t see past them, and look for help among his friends. And then they said he was guided by his stomach. They were probably having lunch, stuffing themselves with barley cakes, without any care for him.

Hector stuffed a rag on Lucius’ mouth. “You sit tight and watch quietly,” he smirked, “and we might leave you alone. Fucking freeborn, thinking you’re better than us. What did you do to deserve this?”

“Well, pretty?” Tydeus asked, leering and reaching to grab Cassianus’ arm.

Cassianus pulled back and glared at him. “If you have a problem with Lucius, then take it to the emperor. He’s the one who decides the fate of all of us.”

“And if I have a problem with you?”

Cas took a step back, trying to avoid Tydeus’ hand, and fell against Gallicus. He grabbed Cassianus by the arms. Despite his anger and his fear, Lucius felt proud that Cas didn’t scream or beg but, after trying to elbow Gallicus and failing, stood still, paling in anger.

“Well?” Tydeus said, trailing his finger down Cassianus’ face. “Ask for the emperor’s opinion.”  
Hector laughed.

“The emperor gave me to Lucius. Do you dare question his authority, and his judgement?”   
Tydeus looked at Hector. Hector shrugged. “How will he know? We could take you and kill you, and then your master,” he sneered the word, “and the emperor would be none the wiser.”

“God wouldn’t let your crime be hidden.”

Lucius couldn’t help smirking. As if Faith would save them. But Cas’ belief was admirable, if misguided. “God isn’t here, pretty.”  
“God is everywhere.”

Tydeus snorted. “Right…”

“And where there is no god,” Lucius heard Symmachos shout, “there’s me. What the fuck are you doing here?”

Victor and Eteokles let him go immediately. Lucius removed the rag from his mouth and punched Victor, who was closer.

“I said, enough.”  
Lucius stopped before he could punch Gallicus. He satisfied himself with pulling Cassianus close to him. Symmachos studied them all. “This behaviour is unacceptable. You are the Emperor’s gladiators. You owe  
him obedience, even when he’s not present.”

Lucius shot him a dirty look. The fucking cocksucker was there, listening the whole time, and only chose to interfere when it suited him.

“You owe him even greater obedience when he is here.” “What?”  
The sound of trumpets was answer enough. This time the emperor had decide to arrive accompanied by musicians, and after the heralds, they could hear lyres and flutes, and cymbals, and the synchronous tapping of feet upon the ground. Behind them were the guards, and after him the emperor, his friends and members  
of his court, with slaves attending to their needs.

Lucius saw the other gladiators hurry behind the emperor’s retinue, surprised in the middle of lunch and too afraid not to be there to greet their Master.

It took Commodus some time, but he finally spotted Lucius. He beckoned him and Lucius smiled as he approaced, like the honour was too great. "You have decided to come back to the world of real men," Commodus told him as he embraced and kissed him.

"This is where the best men are," Lucius agreed. "And I have made a great many friends here." He smirked at Tydeus.

"You have come to visit them?" Commodus grinned. "That is good. You should keep your friends close." He pulled Lucius towards him. "Am I your friend?"

"You are my god," Lucius replied.

"I like it when you say it. You sound honest." Commodus looked behind Lucius, and straight at Cassianus. Commodus didn't have to push Lucius for Lucius to move out of his way, but Lucius wished he had the strength to block him. "This is our Cassianus, is it not? It is unfair that even in a slave's tunic you look free."

Cassianus kept looking down, and Lucius hoped this would be enough. "Answer me. Isn't it a slave's duty to answer when spoken to?"  
Lucius sighed. If only.

"According to Aristotle," Cassianus said, raising his eyes to Commodus, "it is true that some men must rule, and some must be ruled. Just as the soul rules over the intellect and passions of the body, so men of   
superior qualities must rule over their inferiors. Yet, he observes that in nature we see that some have the souls and others have the bodies of free men. And he accepts, even though he speaks of slavery as a natural occurrence, necessary for the safety and continuity of the city, that slavery is also governed by law and fortune. So, when a free man is enslaved in war, he is a slave by law and convention, but not by nature. Some are slaves everywhere, others nowhere," he finished in Greek.

"Also, Epictetus says,” he continued, “no man is another man’s master, only life and death and pleasure and hardship. And as long as man can decide what is right and wrong, then man is free. Even the Epicureans claim that freedom from passions and pain is the one to which people should aspire, and so they keep the Garden open to everyone, free and slave alike. Therefore, most philosophers would agree on this. That the slavery of the body is a condition beyond a person's control, sanctioned by human, not divine law, but the slavery of the soul is one that can be avoided and shaken off. For these reasons, it is natural that I appear as free, since my soul is free of vice and I can still see what is right and wrong, and choose accordingly."

Lucius bit back a groan. The emperor was stunned, and if he defended Cassianus, they might both end up dead. But if he …

"If your master ordered you to do something wrong," Commodus asked, looking more intrigued than angry, "then what would you do? Wouldn't it be your duty to do as he ordered?"

Lucius bit his lips, and prayed Cassianus would lie.

"If a master orders something wrong, then he is not a master of himself. Would it still be my duty to obey him?"

Clearly the answer was negative, and Commodus frowned."Let's assume that it is." "Then it would be my duty to show him that he is wrong."  
"And if he still commanded you to do that?" "Then it would be my duty to deny him." "Wouldn't that make you a bad slave, then?"  
"But we have already established that I am free, have we not?" Cassianus smiled a little. "In mind and soul, if not in body. And the fetters of the body are fragile and easily broken. Besides, a good master would never  
ask something wrong and unworthy of him from his slaves. If he is a true master, according to his nature, like Aristotle says, then it is his duty to guide his slaves into righteousness, and share with them the intellectual powers they lack."

"So, the master would be at fault?" Commodus turned and stared at Lucius. "You were right," he said, no longer hiding his astonishment. "He is boring. This is like being back in school. I didn't grow up to study forever, and hide behind books. I grew up to be a man." He studied Cassianus again. "Give him a sword. One of the wooden ones that you use for practice. My Divine Father was more proud that I fought by his side, than that I followed lectures. Let us see, did you learn to spar only with words?"

Lucius shuddered. Aniketos grabbed his arm, and only then he realised that he had stepped forward. "Move, and we're all dead," he whispered to him, fingers digging painfully in his flesh.

Cassianus took the sword and felt its weight in his hands.

Lucius took a deep breath and let Aniketos pull him aside, as everyone cleared space for them.

"Today I will fight as a Thrax, to honour your master," Commodus declared, and a slave almost tripped in his haste to fetch the proper armour and weapons. "It is such a shame that you dedicated your weapons to Hercules," the emperor told Lucius. "It would have been even more fitting if I could have fought with them."

The slave knelt in front of Commodus. He picked up the curved sword and the shield. "I won't need more protection against a wooden sword," he mused quietly, as if to himself, but staring at Cassianus.

Cassianus looked down, frowning. Lucius realised that he knew how to hold the sword properly. But still, against the emperor? Only a fool wouldn't let him win. And only a bigger fool wouldn’t give him a seemingly   
decent fight.

"Well?" Commodus asked and everyone clapped as one person, applauding his mere presence. Some, more enthusiastic, shouted in his favour.

Lucius clapped too, and wondered, if any of the women who had slept with him, had ever felt pity and fear for him? The kind of emotions that tormented him as he watched the emperor lunge at Cassianus. And Commodus was laughing, knowing that no shield would stop his sword, only soft flesh. The bonds of the  
body were fragile, Cassianus had said. But even if Cassianus did not care about them, Lucius did, and didn’t want to see them broken.

Aniketos pushed him down, and made him sit, his arms strong and steady around Lucius. "He's just toying with him," he whispered, trying to reassure him.

Lucius made a sound, but words wouldn't come out of his mouth.

Cassianus used his sword to block the emperor's second attack as well, but what good would it really do him? Lucius could see it very clearly. Commodus was thrusting furiously, as if he trying to hack the wooden sword to pieces. He was using the flat of the blade, but it was a matter of time before he used the blade’s edge. Only a matter of time before Cassianus’ wooden sword was cut or broke to splinters.

How had he laughed before, when he had seen the emperor cut this man's nose, or this man's ear in one of his attacks? But now Lucius could find nothing amusing in the sight of an armed man against a defenceless opponent. And only Aniketos’ hands kept him in place when Commodus hacked through the sword, cutting it in two. Cassianus sank to his knees, and Commodus rested the tip of his sword on Cassianus' heart.

"Shut up," Aniketos ordered him, and Lucius obeyed. "The youth of today is soft. Can't fight."  
Cassianus kept his eyes down, and for that Lucius was grateful.

Commodus slid the sword up, cutting through Cassianus' tunic. He stopped only when he reached the hollow of his throat. Cassianus tilted his head back, staring at Commodus. "Whatever shall I do with you?" Commodus asked.

"Whatever you will."

Commodus kept the tip of his sword in place. "Skin like yours shouldn’t even be bruised, let alone marked with cuts," he said quietly, as if to himself. Then he turned towards Lucius, sheathing his sword as he moved. "I see a lot of senatorial pride in our Cassianus. I am curious, how long would it take to break him out of it?" He grinned, and strangely, it made him look ugly. "Let me know when you make a slave out of him."

Lucius nodded, mutely. Even if he had wanted to, he had no words.

Commodus turned back. "Beauty attracts beauty," he commented, and Lucius looked at what had caught  
Commodus' attention.

A woman, a young woman, was kneeling right next to Cassianus, whispering something to him as she offered him some water.

"You must admit, it is unfair when a slave gets supported by such a woman, while an emperor has to rely on slaves like these," Commodus said as slaves fussed around him, swiping the sweat off him, and bringing him cool wine, and clean clothes.

But he had a point. The emperor's slaves, pretty though they were, they could not compete either with Cassianus or the young woman when it came to their looks. She seemed tall, and elegant, with eyes that shone darkly beneath her delicate eyebrows, and dark, brown hair that glittered red in the sunlight. Her dress, made of thin, yellow silks, highlighted her complexion and not so much hid, as revealed the beauty of her figure.

"Who is she?" Commodus asked.   
Quadratus, the emperor's cousin, stepped forward. "Caesar," he said, motioning the woman to stand up, "this is Marcia Aurelia, the daughter of Sabinianus, Verus' faithful servant."

Marcia lowered her head, and then her body, an act so elegant that showed that she was born and raised in the palace, and felt equal to the men who had been born free, and not in slavery, like she had. Perhaps slavery was a matter of the soul, and not the body, as Cassianus had claimed.

Commodus studied her. Then he turned towards Lucius. "I heard you have refused teaching here. Would you consider teaching me the secrets of your profession?"

Lucius blinked. "I only want to serve you, Caesar, in whatever way you want."

"Good, good." Commodus glanced back at Marcia, and Lucius did too. She was talking with Cassianus again, and they looked radiant in the sun. "A good master would not demand something wrong from his slaves, huh?" He grinned. "The truth is, our Divine Father would approve of that."

Lucius turned towards the emperor. "Should I demonstrate now or…" he asked, wanting to keep Commodus' thoughts as far away from Cassianus as possible.

"Later, later. We must eat now, and rest."

Lucius followed him out, carefully avoiding looking back. But he knew Aniketos was behind him, and Cassianus was still talking to Marcia. And he didn’t know why that made him feel a different kind of fear. He wished Gaius was there; Gaius could help him in his confusion.

**********

Gaius stayed silent when he heard what happened. Lucius kept waiting for his brother to hit him, or call him stupid, but he did nothing. It was worrying. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“You have nothing to day?”

“What can I say?” Gaius slumped on the table. “That you’re stupid? No matter what I say, you won’t stop acting stupid, will you?”

“What did you want me to do, Gaius? Tell the emperor to fuck off?”

Gaius sat up as if stung and looked around to see if anyone of the tavern’s patrons had heard Lucius. When he was satisfied that they hadn’t, he grabbed his cup and made to empty its contents on Lucius’ face. In the end, he put it down noisily. “You’re an idiot,” he said, sighing.

Lucius snorted. If he thought that was stupid, then what would he think if he heard that he and Cas had been attacked? He’d done the right thing not telling that little sordid tale to his brother. “We could live in the Palace, if we want,” he said instead.

“What?”

“So said He.”

“Was it an order or a suggestion?”

“Neither. A question. He said, he didn’t care where I lived, as long as I was always at his service.” He smirked. “Although, knowing him, I might as well go back to the Barracks. He’s visiting them quite often, and Aniketos said they might as well set up a permanent tent for him to live, or have rooms joined and refit according to his wishes.”

Gaius shook his head. “A gladiator emperor. There hasn’t been one recently.” It was Lucius’ turn to look around. “People like him,” he said.  
“You say it like you don’t.” He grinned. “All it took was one threat to your beloved, and you stopped being   
loyal to your Lord?”

“Shut up.” He looked around, but everyone seemed busy with their drinks. “Speaking of whom, why did you leave him at the house? He could have joined us.” “I don’t think he’d have enjoyed this.”  
“What? Cheap wine, cheaper women and the noisy songs of twenty drunken men?”

Lucius sighed. Drunken men were unpredictable, and he didn’t feel like getting into a fight over Cas. He’d do it in a heartbeat, but Cas had had enough of stupid men and their grabby hands for a day.

“Cheer up. He’s here, you’re here, and all’s well, right?”

Lucius stared at his brother, frowning. “I thought you didn’t like him. That you wanted to make a slave out of him.” For me to use him, he wanted to add, but didn’t. “You’d said he was trouble.”

Gaius sobered up immediately. “Can you say he’s not? The emperor could have killed him today, and it seems that he’s as stupid as you, perhaps even more so. The emperor was in a good mood today, but who’s to say what will happen next time?”

Lucius looked down.

“You still scare me, Lucius. More than I can say. But if he makes you happy,” he shook his head, “I won’t stand in the way of your happiness, and I will not oppose it.”

“Because I deserve it?” he asked, grinning, trying to make Gaius smile and stop being so serious, so scarily serious.

Gaius grimaced as if in pain for a moment, before he smiled.

“You don’t think I deserve this?” Of all the things Gaius could have meant, that suddenly annoyed him the most. That ungrateful little... He’d done everything for him, and…

“That’s not what I meant,” Gaius cut him off, staring at him with the same serious expression. “Then?” He held on to his anger, and didn’t care if his brother knew it.  
“Because I still think he’s trouble?” Gaius said, looking like he was trying to placate him. “Can we not talk about this?”

Lucius glared at him.

“Because it won’t end well, that’s why, Lucius,” Gaius said, lowering his voice, but sounding as angry as Lucius had a moment before. “What? Do you expect that you two will live happily together until the end of your lives? That your lives will be one long festival from now on? You said it yourself; he’s a patrician. When he gets bored of playing the plebeian, or whatever it is he’s doing, do you think he will stay with you? What hold do you have on him? None.” He waved Lucius silent. “And then there’s the emperor to consider. Right now he favours you, but until when? Will you be able to sway him if he decides that this joke has gone too far? Or that this punishment is not enough, and has his head cut off?”

Lucius stood up, knocking his knee on the table in his haste, and throwing the jug of wine on the floor. “Fuck you.”

“You know I’m right,” Gaius shouted above the noise and the singing.

Lucius ignored him. He deserved this, damn it, and he’d make it last. Or at least… He shook his head. He didn’t want to think of Cas leaving him, or worse. Cas had said he wanted to stay with him, and he didn’t seem like the kind of person to say one thing one day, and do something else the next. Cas was constant.

Hermione ran to the back of the house, and Cas looked up from his book the moment Lucius stepped into the courtyard. “What’s wrong?”   
“Nothing.”

He put the scroll down, not bothering to put a weight on it as he stood up. “You’re angry at me. Because I  
spoke my mind to the emperor.”

“I already told you, I felt proud of you. Scared, but proud.”

Cas looked at him strangely, like he was trying to look inside him and find the truth. What was worse was that Lucius had the feeling he was succeeding. Cas made him feel like he couldn’t hide anything. He sat down. “I’m angry at Gaius,” he said tiredly.

“Why?”

“Nothing important. Little brothers, you know? You wouldn’t.”

Cas frowned. He sat down again, this time next to him. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” He turned at Cas. “Tell me, does your god only reward a person after death? That salvation from  
Hell, is that all you can hope for?” “Why are you asking me this?”  
“Never mind.” It’s not like he deserved anything. That he’d let himself believe it for a while was enough, but he knew he had no right to happiness. The most he could hope was a quiet life without many problems. And hadn’t he promised to himself already that he’d do anything to make Cas happy? If Cas left, as Gaius predicted, he wouldn’t try to hold him back. “Forget it,” he smiled.

“We can’t hope for much in this life,” Cas said quietly. “You saw what happened today. All we can do is try to be better, be brave, die with faith and dignity.”

Lucius frowned. “That’s not much.”

“But life is precarious. Even without being on the other end of a sword, there are still diseases, and it doesn’t matter what you have or what you do. More women die on childbirth than from sickness.”

“But if you’re good, and do what’s right, then don’t you deserve something? In this life?”

Cas shook his head. “‘Deserve’ is the wrong word. Our lives are in the hands of God. Whatever happens is because of His will.”

“I don’t understand. Why would you turn your back on the religion of your fathers? Or is your Father a  
Christian too?” “He is not.”  
“Then? If I want something, I pray to the Gods, and sometimes they listen to me. Some are kinder than others, like Hercules, who never let me get hurt too much, or Aesculapius, who always aided my doctors so they could heal my wounds quickly.” Or Fortune, who’d brought him Cassianus, even if it was just temporary. “Is it the same with you Christians? And if it is, then why become a Christian, and risk being ridiculed, and denounced and put to death? I don’t understand.”

Cas smiled. “Don’t you find it a bit silly, praying to so many gods? One for guarding the doors, another for the corridor, and if you lose your key, you can pray to different ones depending on where you lost it? Isn’t that superstitious? Irrational?”

“That’s why you became a Christian? So you could pray to one god instead of many?” Cas’ smile didn’t fade.  
“Plato believed in one god too, and Epictetus. You didn’t have to become a Christian for that.” “It wasn’t just for that.”   
“Then? Explain to me.”

“There’s no single reason.” His smile widened a little. “You must think I’m avoiding answering you again.” “I wasn’t,” he said, and it was not a complete lie.  
“I liked the idea that there’s something else, something more than just this life. Most philosophers deny the survival of the soul after death, and Plato’s idea of the soul jumping around bodies forever, sometimes human, sometimes animal is just…” Cas grinned. “Even you must admit it is a very stupid idea.”

He was this close to saying how the Christian idea that the souls of non-Christians would be condemned to eternal punishment was just as preposterous, and insulting too, but he kept his mouth shut. Cas had such a lovely smile. He didn’t want to make him stop.

“And then,” Cas looked at him shyly, and spoke even more softly, “I had a dream.” “A dream?”  
“After Titus died. I saw him, and he was in this dark, cold place, shivering, hungry, and naked, and he begged me to help him, but no matter what I didn’t, I couldn’t help him. I tried to give him my clothes but I couldn’t reach him. I had bread, but I couldn’t give it to him. It scared me and it saddened me to see him in such a place, and so miserable.” Cas looked at him so earnestly, Lucius was certain he believed in this dream of his. “I spoke to Julia, and she had seen him too, in the same condition. We asked Presbyter Hyacinth, who is her confessor, and he explained it to us.”

Lucius bit his lips. And then Cas dared call praying to different gods for different things superstition? He had abandoned the gods of his family and the customs everyone held common for a dream. More foolish than a woman he was, not a lover of wisdom. “What did he tell you?”

“That his salvation lay within our hands, that if we prayed he would be free of that torment.” “And you believed him?”  
“He was my brother. Was I supposed to let him suffer? Even before, I thought that gods speak to us through dreams. That, something when we are asleep lets the soul free to walk among the world, that sleep being a border between life and death meant that the gods could talk to us more easily, and that the dead could reach us.”

Lucius snorted.

“A week before Titus died I started seeing Cassius. He kept telling me that it was his time to play with our brother, but I didn’t want to listen. And a day before his death, Father saw the one of the pillars of our ancestral home burn to cinders. It is the truth.” Cas took a deep breath. “Father Philip says it’s superstitious and dangerous to believe in dreams, but I know what I’ve seen.”

“It was just a dream, Cas,” he said softly.

“After I was baptised, I saw him again, and this time he looked healthy and well, and he was in his favourite garden.” Cas smiled a little. “You’ve seen it, the one where you went to catch the sun away from prying eyes, the one with the pines and the pomegranates and the roses. Titus’ roses. He had planted them himself.”

“It is a beautiful garden. With even more beautiful roses.” He wished he could say that he felt like he’d plucked the most beautiful of them all and was now struggling to make it grow and flower.

“I knew he was saved. I gave him bread and we shared water under the shade of my favourite tree.”

Cas’ smile was so sweet, Lucius couldn’t tell him that he was being stupid for believing such things. But then again, what would he think if he saw Father in a dream? Or maybe Mother? “Have you seen him again?”

Cas looked away.

“You haven’t,” he nodded. “Just because you haven’t seen him again, doesn’t mean he’s forgotten you,” he   
said, deciding to indulge him.

“I saw him,” Cas said very quietly. “The night before you came into my house. I saw him.” He still wouldn’t look at Lucius, but he had started to shiver. “He took me to the garden, and fed me with his hands. He told me this had to sustain me, and I had to be strong. I didn’t know what he meant, but then you came.” Cas glanced at him.

Lucius shuddered. He felt like someone was watching over his shoulder, and breathing down his neck. Nonsense. There was no one else in the courtyard, and as the darkness fell, the wind was getting colder. All nonsense. “It hasn’t been all bad, has it?”

Cas smiled.

Lucius stood up. He gave his hand to Cas. “I’m hungry. I wonder what’s for dinner.”

&*&*

For the next three days Lucius didn’t talk to Gaius, and Gaius didn’t talk to him. When they saw each other, that is. Cas kept looking at them strangely, but they wouldn’t tell him what was wrong, and he wouldn’t ask. And Lucius and Cas didn’t talk about dreams or religions either, they just spent the mornings in the Barracks, where no one bothered them, and the evenings with Cas reading to him.

“They’re just being stupid,” Lucius overheard Hermione in the morning of the third day. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were arguing over a woman.”

“Why do you say that?” Cas asked her.

Hermione snorted. “Don’t you have anything better to do than gossip with me?” “I do, but brothers shouldn’t fight with each other. It’s wrong.”  
“Brothers do it all the time,” she laughed. “I thought you came from a rich house? Didn’t you ever fight with your brothers for the best scraps after dinner, or trick him so he’d fail at his work and get no new clothes from the Master?” There was a moment of silence, and she laughed again. “The slaves of the rich have it easy. Was that woman your mistress? The one whose gifts you gave us? And why did she name you like that?”  
“My Father named me,” Cas told her in a strange voice. He sounded embarrassed and sad at the same time. “Really? You knew your father? I never knew mine. But he gave you a bad name. It stands out too much.” Before Hermione could say something else, Lucius coughed and stepped into the courtyard. Hermione was  
swiping, while Cas followed her with a bucket of water and a brush, and was washing the floor. On his knees.

“Cas,” he shouted. “What are you doing?” “Cleaning?”  
He grabbed his hands and lifted him up. “You shouldn’t do that.” “The floor won’t clean itself,” Hermione murmured.  
Cas nodded.

“Then we’ll get someone else to do it. Hermione.” “It’s not right to make Hermione carry heavy things.” “Cas.”  
Cas stared at him. “Don’t glare at me like I’m your brother.”

Lucius let go off his wrists. “What I do with my brother is none of your business.”   
“You haven’t spoken to him in days, and it is my business, because whatever it is, it makes you unhappy. I  
don’t like it.”

Hermione made a soft noise, threw her broom down, and rushed to the back. “Now look what you did.”  
“What I did? She had you brushing the floor. On your knees.” Lucius grabbed Cas’ hands again and examined them. They were red, and cold. “You shouldn’t do that,” he said, more softly.

“She didn’t make me. I still want to be useful to you and you don’t need a reader.” “What do I need, then?”  
“Someone to help Hermione with the chores, and someone to manage your household.”

Lucius smiled. “Since you know everything, could you tell me also what I should do so I could make money fast?” He realised he was not only holding Cas, but also tracing circles on his hands, and he let him go again. “If I got someone to help Hermione, would you take over the management of the house?” He wondered why Gaius wasn’t taking care of that, as he had promised he would.

“I will. As to your first question, how much money do you have?” He shrugged. “Gaius is in charge of that.”  
“Then I will ask him.” He looked down. “I should finish with the floor before I go to my sister’s. It is the Day of the Lord, and…”

“You have to do what you need to do, I understand.”

Cas frowned. “It is not out of malice that I am not asking you to join me.” “Who said that I want to join you?”  
“But you look curious.” Lucius shrugged.  
Cas knelt down gracefully. “Please, make peace with your brother,” he said as he picked up the brush again.

“I will,” he muttered and grabbed the broom. “You want to do the floor? I’ll help you. Hermione keeps running out whenever she sees me and who knows when she’ll be back.”

“I think she doesn’t want to disturb us.”

Lucius stopped breathing for a second. “Why do you say that?” he asked as casually as he could. “Because she never runs away from me.” Cas smiled. “I think she likes you.”  
Lucius closed his eyes and fell on a column. Thankfully he didn’t hurt himself much and Cas was looking down, too busy scrubbing to notice. He sighed in relief. “I don’t think so,” he said slowly.

“I think so. I’ve seen it before, at my Father’s house. The younger slaves would act like that whenever they liked someone. We had two managers just to make sure they wouldn’t miss work because they were  
following someone with their eyes one moment, and run away from him the next. I wonder who told them that this coy behaviour was attractive to men.”

Lucius swallowed. “You didn’t find it attractive, then?” He glanced back, and found Cas staring at him irritated.

“I wasn’t talking about myself, but Father and others.” He sneered a little at the last word. “They seemed to prefer women who knew what they wanted, and wouldn’t run away when they approached them.” His gaze darkened. “But maybe they just didn’t like the struggle.”   
“Maybe. But I assure you, Hermione doesn’t like me.”

“Why? She would have much to gain from sleeping with you, and you are handsome.” Lucius stopped breathing. “I’m what?” he said in a voice that came out strangled and low.  
“Handsome.” Cas looked at him strangely. “You don’t think so? Even though you must have won over more women than men? Did you think they only slept with you because of your fame? Because you’re a gladiator?”

“Eh,” he said, feeling embarrassed and not wanting this discussion to stop at the same time, even if Cas had no idea what this was doing to him, and his poor, needy manhood.

“It’s the truth,” Cas said, and went back to scrubbing methodically each slab.

Lucius frowned. “But, you’ve noticed that?” he asked and his voice was barely more controlled.

“I’m not interested in the pleasures of the flesh, but I’m not blind.” He snorted. “Father had me educated according to the precepts of Plato and Aristotle, and you know how Plato insists that appreciating beauty is necessary for learning how to be virtuous.” He stared up at Lucius. “I know I haven’t finished, but I should go now, or else I’ll be late and my sister will be angry with me.”

Lucius nodded. “I’ll finish up,” he said, watching Cas look at his hands disgusted, and then grab the cloak  
Julia had given him before hurrying out of the house.

So, Cas saw him the way he saw a statue? A beautiful object to be admired but not to be touched? He heard footsteps and turned around.

“And don’t forget to reconcile with your brother by the time I get back,” Cas told him seriously, with just the hint of a smile, before leaving for a second time.

He shook his head. “As you wish, Master,” he whispered. Fuck. The boys had been right; the beloved did drag the lover around by a leash.

**********

He had just finished cleaning the floor when Gaius came into the house, with his clothes all wrinkled, hair tousled and a quietly satisfied expression. He snorted. His brother had finally got himself a woman. Good for him.

Gaius snorted back. “I thought we had slaves for that.”

“Shut up.” He stopped him before he could go to his room. “We need to talk.” “About what?” Gaius’ eyes narrowed. “Not Cassianus.”  
Lucius sat down. “You’re wrong about him. He’s…”

Gaius took a deep breath. “If he makes you happy, I will be happy for you. I will pretend it makes me happy too, since that’s what you want. But don’t ask me to believe in this dream of yours.” He sat down next to him, and nudged him with his knee. “I still wish you’d send him back to his father, because he…” He stopped, and looked away from him.

“What?” he said angrily. “You’re jealous, aren’t you? Because he makes me happy.” Frustrated, but happy. Gaius stared at him. “You really are stupid, aren’t you?”  
Lucius stood up and kicked him. “You’re the stupid one.”

“You asked for the truth. I’m just trying to protect you,” Gaius said standing up and pushing him backwards. “But if you want, I’ll lie to you.”   
“Fuck you.”

Gaius stared at him with so much pity, Lucius had to punch him. When Gaius didn’t fight back, Lucius went to his room, disgusted.

Gaius followed him moments later. “What do you want me to say, Lucius? That I’m not jealous? I’m not. That  
I’m not scared? I am.”

Lucius looked at him. Gaius looked honest, concerned, his little brother who couldn’t figure him out when he came late at night, but still didn’t mind. He couldn’t be angry at him. “Just, be happy for me. That’s all.”

Gaius leaned against the wall, sighing. “As you wish. Just remember, I’ll be here.” He frowned.  
“I mean it. Now, and later.”  
How could he stay angry? Gaius was the only person who’d always been with him. “I know,” he said. “Good.” He smiled and sat next to him on the bed. “What about a trip to the Baths? Together. I’ll wash your  
back and you’ll wash mine.”

“Why not?” It’s not like he could do much else in the house.

&*&*

Cas was sitting in the courtyard when he came back. There was a case full of books next to him but he wasn’t reading anything and the moment he saw Lucius, he lifted his head and stared at him with something like relief.

He glanced at Gaius and his brother snorted. “Maybe not all is hopeless,” he said, pushing him towards Cas. “I’m going to check what’s for dinner. Where are your friends when you need them, Lucius? I’d like to dine at someone else’s house, for a change.” He left before Lucius could hit him.

“Well?” he asked Cas when they were alone.

“I asked Father Philip if you could join me next time, but he thinks you’re not ready yet.” Lucius smirked. “Of course I’m not ready to give up meat and sex? That’s not for me.”  
Cas sighed. “You shouldn’t say that,” he said softly. “There’s more to life than satisfying the needs of the flesh.”

“And you’re happy like that?” “I am.”  
The thing was, when Cas looked so serious, all Lucius wanted was to touch him. Mess up his hair, and trace his lips, and maybe even tickle him. He smiled, and put his hand on Cas’ shoulder, squeezing a little. “I’m glad,” he said, and strangely enough, he meant it.

Cas smiled back. “Father Philip said I should teach you,” he started, and he was serious again, “but I don’t think I’m worthy of such a task. So, I thought… Here,” he said, giving the book case to Lucius. “These are the memories of Jesus, as Mark wrote them. And the letters of Paul. Maybe, if you read them, you’ll understand  
a little. And I’ll try to answer all your questions as best as I can.”

Lucius looked at the case warily. These were just scrolls, they weren’t snakes, but why did he feel like he was holding something strange and dangerous in his hands? Cas probably thought he was doing him a favour, letting him learn about their ways and beliefs, but these books had gotten people in trouble in the past. This Christian superstition was dangerous. If he accepted these, he’d get involved.

“You don’t have to agree, or change your ways,” Cas said like he had read his mind. “Treat them like simple books, if you so desire.”   
“But you believe in them?”

“I do, but I cannot force you to believe.”

He looked at the scrolls inside, and gave the case back to Cas. There was still enough light. “Why don’t you read to me until dinner is ready?” He sat down. “I have to warn you. I may have many questions.”

“Then I will answer them.”

Lucius leaned back, and looked at the sky as Cas started reading about John, and how he prepared the way for Jesus. What more was he supposed to do? At least Cas smiled at him and when he touched him, he didn’t pull back, but he had no idea what else to do.

&*&*

The next morning they found Aniketos waiting for them some way outside the Barracks. “What’s going on?” Aniketos glanced at Cas. “The emperor is at the Barracks. I came to warn you.”  
“You should go back to the house,” he told Cas. “I refuse to be intimidated by him.”  
Aniketos and Lucius shared a look. “I should drag you home myself, boy,” Aniketos said. “But you won’t,” Cas answered him.  
Lucius sighed. “Cas, please.” “What can he do to me?”  
Aniketos snorted. “Of all the people in the world, Lucius,” he started and then shook his head. “Well, I came to warn you,” he said, turning his back on them and heading towards the Barracks.

“The emperor will expect to see me, but not you. Please, go home.” Cas stared at him.  
Were the gods speaking through Gaius? “I won’t be able to protect you if he does anything,” he said, unable to get his brother’s warnings out of his mind.

“I know. But what do you want me to do? Run back to the house and hide? Live my life in fear? I refuse to  
live like that.” Cas touched his arm. “You never ran away when you were fighting. So, how can you ask me to run?”

“Because I don’t want to see you get hurt,” he sighed, and tried to make Cas understand what this meant to him.

Cas frowned. “Will it make you happy?” he asked slowly. “It will.”  
“Then, for your sake, this time I will go back to the house.” He looked like he wanted to say something else, nursing his lip nervously, but then he turned around with a sigh.

Lucius closed his eyes, relieved. Now he could face Commodus.

&*&*

What he hadn’t expected, though, was Commodus wishing to see Cas. “We have no need for you today,” he told Lucius as imperiously as only an emperor could. “As a Pursuer, I have nothing to learn from a Thracian. But I am in need of a net-man. Where is our Cassianus?”   
“He wasn’t feeling well.”

Commodus narrowed his eyes. “First his father, and now you claim that he is ill? I suspect you are lying to me. He looked quite healthy a few days ago.” He gestured to one of his guards. “Bring our Cassianus to us. I want to see if I can heal him with my touch.”

Aniketos gave him a sympathetic look. Lucius leaned on the wall, feeling helpless. Gaius had been right. What could he do? He watched Commodus practice with a growing sense of despair, and when the guard brought Cas to the emperor, he didn’t know how to say he was sorry.

“My friend said you were unwell,” Commodus said studying Cas. “But I think he was lying.” “He wasn’t,” Cas said and he sounded wrecked.  
“You look well.”

Cas stared calmly at Commodus. “I feel sick.”

Commodus grinned. “I have the cure.” He tore Cas’ tunic with his sword in two, and as the garment fell to the ground, Lucius looked away.

“Shit,” Aniketos murmured beside him, and Lucius looked again.

Cas had probably raised his hands in an attempt to push Commodus away, but Commodus was bigger and stronger and had grabbed both wrists in his grip. “You’re no net-man,” he laughed as he pressed Cas against him. “Give me that,” he shouted extending his free hand and pointing at the net. The net-man rushed and put it in his hand. Commodus slapped him away, and wrapped the net around Cas. “You’re a fish.”

Lucius could see that in a sick way, Commodus was right; Cas was shivering, much like a fish out of water that was about to die. Shivering and moving his head this way and that, trying to avoid Commodus’ lips.

“A not so slippery fish now,” Commodus said as he pushed Cas against the wall right next to Lucius and pinned him there with his weight and his hands. He tried to kiss him again, but a moment later he pulled away. “You bit me,” he shouted, and slapped him.

Cas stared at him strangely and licked his lips slowly.

“My Lord, please,” Quadratus said before Cas could speak, near but not next to Commodus. “People talk enough already,” he murmured for Commodus’ ears only, but Lucius was close enough to hear him too. “To have freeborn men and women in your palace is one thing, but you want to defile the son of a senator while we are watching? Cousin, please.”

Commodus sneered. “You say the Senate stands above the Emperor?”

“I do not,” Quadratus said immediately. “I’m saying, a good emperor protects those who are far below him and honours those who are near him. The emperor is the sun, and no one wants to feel that he has turned away from them.”

Commodus glared at him. He turned towards Cas. “He tells me to release you, little fish. Why don’t you tell him that you want to be caught?”

Cas looked away.

“I gave you an order.”

“I stay silent because I refuse to lie to my Lord.” Commodus hit him again.  
“You could force me, or order me,” Cas told him, “but wouldn’t it better if you won this victory over yourself? Or, if you truly do desire me, wouldn’t it be better if you caught me not with nets and threats, but with sweet words and kisses?”   
Commodus stared at him with eyes wide and full of amazement. “You want me to seduce you?” “I want you to be my Emperor, the invincible sun of justice.”  
Commodus looked at Quadratus, and then glanced back. He took the net carefully off Cas. “Then I will be more than just. I will be merciful.”

Quadratus was next to Cas immediately, wrapping him in his own mantle.

“Now, watch me, Cassianus. For your sake I will defeat all the net-men here today.”  
Lucius shuddered. He was more hopeful that he could win against Cas’ god than against Commodus. Cas moved next to him. Quadratus’ mantle was incredibly soft against his skin, but beneath that he could  
feel Cas trembling. If he wasn’t afraid of Commodus’ reaction, he’d hug Cas. A moment later Cas reached for him, fingers brushing his hesitantly. He glanced at the emperor, but he was busy following a net-man. He  
took Cas’ hand in his, and almost smiled when Cas stopped shivering as much. “I lied for you,” Cas whispered, sounding amazed at his own behaviour.  
Lucius squeezed his hand, feeling bold. He suddenly knew he could win against god, if only Commodus didn’t take Cas away from him.

&*&*

Lucius was a little surprised that Cas held his hand throughout the morning, and even after Commodus had left, he still wouldn’t let him go. He was even more surprised that Quadratus also stayed where he was, and instead of following the emperor, demanded to talk to Cas alone.

“If you have something to say, you can say it in front of Lucius,” Cas said. “He’s your,” Quadratus started, looking disdainfully.  
“He’s my friend,” Cas said firmly. “I trust him more than I trust you.” He pushed an accusing finger at Quadratus. “You left me. You all did.” He moved away and started walking towards the road leading to the house.

“Maybe you should come visit him someday,” Lucius suggested. Quadratus shot him another ugly, annoyed look.  
“Just saying.” He left him and hurried towards Aniketos. “Wanna come over to my house for dinner?” “Eh?” Aniketos laughed. “That’s nice of you to offer, but shouldn’t you be with your friend?”  
“I should but…”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of him?”

“I…” He wasn’t scared of him, but he was scared.

“Go after him, you idiot. You can offer me dinner tomorrow.”

Lucius smiled, and ran after Cas. He didn’t even have to catch up with him. Cas, who’d been sitting still as a statue outside the Baths of Titus, waved at him. Lucius approached him hurriedly. “I thought you’d be at the house already.”

“Not even Mercury could fly that fast,” Cas sighed.

Lucius pulled him up. “You don’t look well. I know you hate the Baths, but this one is not as big as the others and, if you could…”   
Cas shook his head. “Then?”  
“You don’t think I’m a coward?”

Lucius looked around. Two people talking outside the baths didn’t attract much attention, but he’d rather have more privacy than that. “There’s a tavern I like near here. We can talk there.”

Cas raised an eyebrow but did follow him. The tavern was much like any other, but Lucius knew that the wine it served was much better than in most places around, and surprisingly cheap for its worth. He made Cas sit down and ordered a jug of wine.

“I don’t drink,” Cas said feebly.

“This is the best Falernian in the area. I think it’s real Falernian, and not the cheap wine they sell as such.” He didn’t wait for Aspasia to bring it to them, paid for it immediately, and poured a cup for Cas as he moved about. “Drink.”

Cas looked at him pathetically.

Lucius closed Cas’ fingers around the cup. “It’s good,” he said. “Drink, or Aspasia will ask what’s wrong with you.”

“Do you know every tavern girl working around the Flavian Amphitheatre?” “Eh,” he grinned, “it’s not like I could stay in the Barracks all the time.”  
Cas snorted.

“Drink,” he repeated more softly. “Wine is medicine too.” Cas took a tiny sip. “It’s interesting,” he said carefully. “It’s good. Drink.”  
Cas followed his advice. When he finished his drink, he filled his cup himself and continued taking small sips, without talking. He looked smaller with each drink, somehow.

“I thought you wanted to talk to me.”

“You don’t think I’m a coward,” Cas said, and this time it wasn’t a question.

Lucius laughed. “You bit the emperor,” he said, lowering his voice. “That was,” he shook his head, grinning, not finding the right words to describe how daring that was. How insane, and terrifying, and he’d rather laugh than get angry, or cry.

“He…” He finished his drink and pushed his cup away. “You were worried about me,” he said, with eyes that burned.

Lucius nodded.

“You are affectionate and a true friend, and I only make you worry,” Cas told him in Greek.

He bit his lips. If he heard one more time that Cas didn’t understand why, he’d probably tell him the truth and wouldn’t that be a bad idea? “Nonsense,” he said before Cas could say anything. “I’m proud of you.”

“Next time he’ll kill me,” Cas whispered. “I don’t know what made him change his mind today. I could see it in his eyes; he wanted me dead.” He shuddered. “I feel dirty. Perhaps we could go to a bathhouse next?”

Lucius stood up. “As you wish,” he said and didn’t tell him how he’d thought the same thing, and that he couldn’t come up with an explanation for Commodus’ behaviour, only that he was glad that he’d changed his mind.   
&*&*

He wondered if he should press Cas and make him talk about what happened, but that was something Gaius was good at. He made sure no one bothered Cas at the baths, that he ate something for dinner, and left him alone for the evening when he thought that Cas had probably had enough of his fussing. And then he apologised to Gaius for everything, and Gaius took him out for a drink. Lucius kept feeling Gaius wanted to hug him, but he wasn’t the one who needed reassurance. Even out of favour he’d probably keep his head.

When they returned to the house Gaius made him check up on Cas. ‘Just a hunch,’ he’d said, but by then Lucius suspected that his brother was probably one of those people who could see the future, or talk to the gods. He wondered if even Gaius’ stupidity in signing up as a gladiator was not a kind of divinely inspired madness, one perhaps for Lucius’ benefit - or torment.

Lucius stopped outside the door. It wasn't that Cas was being noisy. The sounds he was making were too soft and muffled. It was that Cas tried to hide his sorrow that bothered him, and didn't let him sleep. He thought that they were friends.

He opened the door and walked quietly to where Cas slept, not surprised when the young man sat up. "Cas," he said, crouching down.

Cas wouldn't look at him. "I'm disturbing you," he murmured. "Don't be stupid."  
"I'm sorry."

"What for?" Lucius sighed. "Come to bed."

Cas breathed in sharply. Probably thinking of Commodus’ groping hands, or maybe even Lucius’ own.

"I swear, I won't do anything." He smiled, even though Cassianus couldn't see it. "Come on, Cas. My bed is bigger and softer, and…”

"You’ll keep me safe," Cassianus said softly. Lucius flushed, and was glad for the darkness.  
Cas stood up slowly, and touched Lucius lightly on the arm. "Thank you."

Lucius smiled again, and guided him to his room. He couldn’t stop smiling, even though Cas was still fighting back tears. Cas. He settled down, and waited until Cas settled in what had become his side before he touched him again. Just a soothing caress on the shoulder, nothing more. Just a way of showing support.

Cas shuddered, and Lucius heard him make these terrible, muffled sounds again.

“You can talk to me," he offered, feeling awkward. Cas had his moments of fragility, but today, after what Commodus did, it was like he’d been unravelling slowly but continuously, and he really didn’t know what to do. Wine and warm water hadn’t been enough, apparently.

Cas shivered. He suddenly turned around, and reached for Lucius. His arm, his wrist. His arm again, and then his shoulder, as if Cas needed to touch, but didn’t know how. Lucius frowned. Cas didn't. Had never been tempted to, or wanted it.

"Can I hold you?" he asked very quietly, and then cringed. Even so soft, his voice sounded harsh to him, and  
Cas was still so skittish.

Cas made a noise that could have been anything and Lucius stayed put. "Hold me," Cas said a few moments later, and he didn't sound like he was making an order, but like he was lost.

It was Lucius’ turn to shudder. All this time, he'd been good. He hadn't touched Cas except by accident or in ways that were more friendly that anything else and didn’t matter much. He'd slept beside him, quietly yearning, and never dared hope that Cas would turn to him on his own volition, that Cas would allow him to   
embrace him, and hold him close to his chest. "I have you," he whispered, petting Cas' back gently.

Oh, gods, what had he ever done to deserve such a gift from fate? Even like that, shaking in futile attempts not to cry, Cas felt beautiful. The only man he'd ever wanted to hold. Lucius could feel the strength in his muscles and the softness of his skin, and his scent was intoxicating, like the most expensive Indian or Egyptian perfume. Lucius never wanted to let go.

"I want to go home," Cas suddenly whispered, writing the words on Lucius’ chest with his lips.

Lucius froze. Then he tightened his hold, swallowing any bitterness. Of course Cas would want to go home. If he had been brought up in a home like that, he'd want to go back to it too. What was he thinking, that anything he had would ever be enough for someone like Cas?

Cas took another deep breath. "Father hates me. He really hates me. Seeing him today," he managed to say, and then gave up pretending he was strong, and started sobbing.

Lucius continued caressing him, trying to soothe him. His chest burned wherever Cas' tears fell, and his heart ached whenever he heard him cry. He hadn't even noticed Claudianus, or what looks father and son might have exchanged. Perhaps Claudianus had turned his head away in shame, or glared in arrogance, when he realised Cassianus was staring at him. Perhaps Claudianus had grimaced, or gestured him away, the way people did to unwanted dogs and stupid slaves.  
“He was there, at the Barracks,” Cas managed to continue, “but he left when he saw me. I thought…” Lucius pulled Cas even closer to him, surprised that there was still some space to close between them.  
Should he try talking to Claudianus again? Tell him what an incompetent, useless slave his son was, and ask if he could take him back? Lucius swallowed hard. He could do that, and lose Cas, but Cas would then be happy. But if Claudianus really hated his son, how could Lucius ever persuade him to take him back? Not by saying how worthless a slave he was. If he told Claudianus how clever his son was, how cultured, how wonderful?

“But at the Baths, he was disgusted, oh, how he was disgusted. He knew and he hated me. He hates me.” Lucius hated Claudianus. He should be the one feeling shame and self-hatred, not Cas.  
"He said, He came to divide, set the son against his father, and the father against the son, but it is so hard," Cas sniffled, his tears coming to an end.

Lucius smiled a little at that. He held Cas closer, and decided not to ask what kind of a god did that to a family. "Tomorrow," he said and cleared his throat, "tomorrow, we'll do something different."  
He felt Cas smile, a delicate sketch of soft lips on his feverish flesh. "I’m glad I have you," he whispered. Lucius dared touch Cas' hair, push soft strands this side and that, and draw circles with his fingertips. He felt  
it when Cas closed his eyes, relaxed, and fell asleep. He felt each soft breath Cas took, and every little  
sound he made. He felt it when Cas nuzzled him gently in the middle of a dream, and when he shifted closer to him, wrapping his hands around Lucius’ neck and holding him. He felt it when Cas shivered, trapped by a nightmare. Throughout the night, he felt every breath, every word, every tremor.

It should have been the worst night of his life, losing sleep cradling and soothing this needy child who pretended to be a man. Instead of that, it was the best.

Fortune was cruel, to make him a gift out of Cas' pain.

**********

At some point he must have fallen asleep, but when he woke up, Cas was still in his arms, holding him. His face was calm, and his body was relaxed, except for one thing. His manhood was hard, warm and heavy, pressing insistently against Lucius’ own. Lucius was tempted to snake his hand between them, and touch him, and his hips were already moving slightly, seeking more friction. There was nothing else he wanted more, but one look on Cas’ face, so peaceful, and he couldn’t do it.

He disentangled Cas’ arms from his neck gently, and turned around. Grabbing his dick in one hand, he   
muffled his exhalation on his pillow. What the fuck was wrong with him? Cas was made of flesh and blood, not marble, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. What better way than to make him understand how sweet release was, how wonderful to have someone else touch you? That it didn’t have to be violent or…

He hit his head on his pillow and tightened his grip on his dick. Cas had slept with him because he trusted him, and he wouldn’t betray that trust, even if both their bodies would have welcomed his touch. He heard Cas shift and roll around, and he stroked himself. It would have been so much better if Cas were touching him, if he was stroking Cas, or maybe if he held both their dicks in his hand, both hot and heavy and pulsing with need. He’d satisfy that need as only a true lover could, and it would feel so much better --

Cas let out a soft, broken moan, and Lucius came in his palm, biting his lips and trying not to cry out. A few moments later he wiped himself with the sheet, making as little noise as possible, and listening to Cas’ breath change, and move from sleep to wakefulness.

Cas made another small sound, and Lucius heard him move. He felt cold air on his back, but a moment later Cas covered him. His hand stayed on Lucius’ nape, cool and soft and still, but then he spread his fingers a little. Lucius felt Cas exploring the texture of his skin, and the way the bones jutted out and dipped. A soft, barely-there touch that didn’t last long. Cas withdrew his hand with a sharp breath and a hiss, as if burned, and then stayed quiet.

Lucius sat up when he realised that Cas wasn’t moving. He turned around and found Cas glancing at him with embarrassment, wide eyes avoiding his after the first contact. He moved and looked down Cas’ body, where he was still half-hard, and grinned. “That’s just nature’s way of saying you’re a man, Cas. Stop worrying about it.”

Cas tried to move away from Lucius’ gaze, but he stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Are you sure you don’t want to do something about it? Prayer doesn’t seem to work this morning.”

“It will,” he said stubbornly.

“It would be easier if you just,” Lucius made a clear gesture. Cas snorted. “Like you?”  
“It works,” Lucius said defensively. “It leads to lust and that is a sin.”  
Lucius fell back on the bed. “It’s natural. It’s pleasant.”

“At first. Until one day you lose all self-control and you act like Caesar,” Cas said bitterly. He stood up. “Cold water works just as well as prayer,” he said and left Lucius’ bedroom.

Lucius took a deep breath, before springing up and following Cas, getting dressed as he moved. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said when he caught up with him in the small washing room. The tub was half-filled with water, he noticed, probably from the night before.

“Then how?”

He shrugged. “If it didn’t serve a purpose, nature wouldn’t want this. Why do you deny it?” “But, as an athlete, you know better than I do how dangerous it is to spill your seed.” “Athletes do it for the sake of their training. What are you training for?” he snorted.  
“A life that’s good and virtuous. My body is a temple to God, housing His Spirit.” Cas frowned. “Didn’t we have this discussion already?”

Lucius grinned.

Cas smiled at him fondly. “You are exasperating.”

“No more than you.” He even smiled as he said that, but Cas’ expression changed, like something broke and   
crumbled inside him. A moment later, Cas fell on his knees. Lucius was next to him immediately. “Cas?” “Father had said the same thing. That I’m stubborn and foolish and…”  
Lucius hugged him, and let Cas hide his face in his chest. At least this time he wasn’t crying. Lucius was grateful for that.

“I didn’t hide what I was, and he didn’t mind. He’d never minded until…” Cas pulled a little back so he could look at him. “He lied to me, and said you’d wanted me, but then he said that it was because I was such an ungrateful child, so stubborn and wilful and choosing my God before his that he would give me to you gladly.” Cas’ voice trembled. “I woke up this morning, not remembering that his hate was real, but now it’s all I can think of, because you said the exact same words, and…”

“He can’t have meant that.”

“No, he hates me, he really hates me.” Cas pushed him away and stood up. “I must speak with Julia. Can I  
go?”

Lucius sighed. “I’m not your keeper.”

“But you said, we’d do something today. Something different? I was looking forward to whatever you had planned, but I must talk to her as soon as possible.”

Lucius would have let him go anyway, but that Cas wanted to spend time with him instead of his sister made him feel glad. He smiled. “We can do something tomorrow. I never showed you my favourite statues in the Gardens of Sallust, did I?”

Cas smiled back. “Tomorrow, then.” He scooped up water in his hands and splashed his face. A moment later, he used a bowl to gather some water and threw it over his head. “Better,” he smiled, blinking droplets out of his eyes and shaking his head like a dog. “I’ll bathe at my sister’s.”

Lucius wiped the water that had fell on his face with his hands. Charming and innocent as Cas’ actions had been, the water still trickled down his neck, and made his tunic cling to his body seductively. He stood up as Cas started removing his garment, and left before Cas could finish undressing.

But he couldn’t help smiling at the thought that Cas didn’t mind Lucius seeing him naked anymore. If he had more time, he’d find a way to wear down Cas’ resistance completely. But first, he had to honour the goddess of Happy Fortune. He owed her so much already and hadn’t started paying off his debt. He had to start, before she changed her mind. Nothing good came to those who denied gods what was their due.

&*&*

The shrine of Happy Fortune was up on the Capitol Hill, which meant that Lucius spent most of the day going there and back. In any other day, he would have paid more attention to the glorious buildings and the  
crowded apartments, the merchants and the worshippers. He might even have remembered how impressed he'd been when he first went to the hill, so impressed that he let a man guide him around for a few asses, and tell him the history of Rome. Here the temple of Jupiter, here where the Sibylline Oracles are kept, here you can see Tarpeia buried under shields.

But all he could think that day was that Cas had wanted to spend the day with him, and not his sister. That, if he saw Lucius as a brother, someone to replace Titus, then Lucius would become his family, until Cas realised he wanted more from him. Although, he’d been tempted so much that morning. Titus had probably never looked at his little brother and thought that he wanted to touch him and pleasure him.

Since he’d been too preoccupied with other things, he bought some incense and burned it in front of her image. He hoped she would accept his offering, pious as it was, and given with a heart full of hope and gratitude. “I promised you an altar,” he whispered to her, and she seemed to smile more sweetly at his words. “I’ll order it today and bring it to you as soon as it’s ready. Please, let me keep Cas safe, with me.”

The goddess seemed kind, and gentle, and Lucius hoped she would listen to his prayer. Commodus didn’t need Cas, but he did. The goddess ought to listen to him. But what if she’d had enough of his demands?

Did Cas’ god demand such offerings? But he didn’t give anything in this life, so, what kind of offerings could   
be suitable to such a deity? He shook his head as he moved out of the temple. Cas had said that if he read the memories of Jesus, then he’d understand. He hoped so, because he couldn’t understand why a god could demand ritual purity like Cas’, and then give nothing back.

After that, he offered some incense to the Genius of the People, not because he cared, but because it was his fest too, and finally to Victorious Venus. He supposed that they were all celebrated on the same day because Venus, armed as she was with shield and sword, had protected the Romans and, together with Fortune and the Genius, sanctified and blessed what they did. But he thought that it was because Fortune was good to him, and it was a sign that she would secure Venus’ help in his endeavour, and guide him to victory.

So, he prayed to her, and begged her, and asked her to keep Commodus away from them, because Cas’ god didn’t give a damn about the flesh and its pleasures, so it was up to him to ask for Venus’ aid. And if she made him victorious, and helped him bring Cas back to the worship of their ancestors, he’d offer her an altar, or better yet a painting. Something that would proclaim to all how great and powerful the Goddess of Love was.

Even though Gaius was right, and he was scared, perhaps the Gods would prove his allies this time too, and keep him and Cas together.

&*&*

The marble workshops were near the river port at the edge of the Aventine, near the marketplace set up by the two Aemilii, Lepidus and Paullus, when Rome was still a Republic. Some were among the in the warehouses and stores for grain and other goods. Some were along the Road of Marble, and Lucius, who hadn’t been there since the first time he’d explored Rome, remembered why he’d never visited the area. It was noisy, noisier than the centre on the night of a festival, or the Subura at all times. It was crowded, and dirty and most of the women were not the seemingly shy, pretty things that had adored him for his skill with the sword, but were hardened from work, and moved hurriedly about. Some looked at him, and a couple even grabbed his ass as he studied the altars and vases and other things on display. Really, they had nothing of the coy delicacy he liked in women, and he ignored them altogether.

He avoided the shops that sold funerary altars and those that advertised sarcophagi. He wanted nothing that could remind him of death. He wanted hope and life, and he was determined to find the right offering for his Lady Fortune.

And after he’d found it, in the shop of a strong, young man that worked together with his father, a young man whose eyes were almost as blue as Cas’, and placed his order for an altar tall as a small child, with an inscription declaring his piety and luck, and a small image of himself surrounded by garlands, he went to the Bread Market. Cas wouldn’t touch the meat he got from the sacrifices, but he’d eat the bread.

&*&*

Even though he’d spent the day moving from one side of Rome to the other, and had come back tired and late, wanting nothing more than to wash himself quickly and eat whatever Phoenix had prepared, Cas was not at home when he returned. Gaius was, though, clearly waiting for him and not reading the book that was open on his lap.

Lucius sat beside him. “Say it,” he sighed. “I have nothing to say.”  
“Then why are you waiting like this?”

“Can’t a man just wait for his brother to come home?” “Not you.”  
Gaius snorted. Then he gave a letter to Lucius. “This came for Cassianus.” “You have to stop opening his letters, Gaius.”  
“It wasn’t sealed.”   
Lucius frowned. Was something wrong with this generation of patricians? They were all so confident in their power and trusting in people’s goodness that they didn’t seal their letters anymore?

“Just read it.”

Lucius did. Even though it was for Cassianus, it was addressed to him. “Quadratus to Deimos,” he started. “Deimos? Does he not know my name?” He glanced at his brother. “I shouldn’t answer him, since he wants to insult me from the first line.”

“I think you should.”

He skimmed through the rest of the letter. “It’s not my place to answer,” he said when he was finished. “He invites Cas to dinner tomorrow.”

“You could refuse.”

He glared for a moment. “I can’t treat Cas like a free man one day and like a slave the next. If he wants to go, he can go.”

“You trust him?”

“Quadratus?” He remembered the way he’d defended Cas, and how he’d wrapped his mantle around him. The way Cas had accused him of abandoning him. He sighed. “I’m not sure. But I trust Cas.”

“His name is Cassianus,” Gaius said softly, avoiding his gaze.

“But ‘Cas’ suits him better. Cassianus sounds heavy and formal, noble but far too serious.” Lucius smiled a little. “But he’s all light and fire, when he’s acting according to his nature.” His smile widened. “Did you ever notice the way he talks when he’s passionate about something? He’s as bright as a star.”

Gaius coughed.

“He is,” Lucius insisted. “Like…” Gaius elbowed him.  
Behind him Cas cleared his throat, and when Lucius dared look at him, he was still blushing a little. “My sister sends you these,” he said, looking away from Lucius. The slaves behind him pretended not to study Lucius.

He glared at his brother, and Gaius shrugged. ‘I did warn you,’ he mouthed.

Cas wrapped his mantle tighter around him. “I don’t know if they are better than Daphne’s honey cakes,” he started. “Just take them to the kitchen,” he suddenly ordered the slaves impatiently. He sighed, looking like he immediately regretted his tone. “Thank you for your help.”

Lucius had never found the floor more fascinating. Gaius, the little traitor, touched his arm briefly, and then got up and left him alone. Traitor.

“Lucius?”

Cas sounded very close to him, and when he looked up, he found Cas right behind him. He shouldn’t stare at him, but at the same time, he couldn’t look away.

“Lucius,” Cas sighed as he sat down. “Forget it.”  
“Why?”

“Because… Just, forget it, please.” He didn’t want to hear Cas’ rejection and that gave him the strength to look away from Cas’ blue, blue eyes. Not even Venus the Victorious, whose eyes were beautiful and blue,   
had a gaze so implacable.

“I hadn’t realised,” Cas said softly. “I thought you looked at me like Titus, but you look at me like Marcus had looked at my brother.”

Lucius lifted his head. “But you won’t look back the way your brother did, will you?” Cas kept staring at him. “I won’t.”  
Lucius handed him Quadratus’ letter. “Your friend wants to see you. Maybe you should stay with him, or your sister, or Marcus. I don’t care.”

Cas took the letter and broke it in two without even looking at it. “You do care.”

“What if I do?” He stood up and would have pushed Cas on the ground, but Cas stood up just as quickly. “You don’t care,” he shouted.

“I do. That’s why I will not let you do something as stupid as demean yourself with acts of carnal lust and desire.”

“What do you want me to do, then?”

“I want you to win this victory over yourself.” Cas looked at him seriously.

“It’s not like I can stop this.” His feelings, his emotions, his desires. He couldn’t stop any of them.

“Do you remember how Plato likened the soul to a charioteer, controlling two horses? One beautiful and noble.”

“And one base and ugly, yes, I remember.” And when the ugly horse wanted to approach the beloved, the beautiful one held back, and the charioteer had to whip the bad horse into retreating so as to hold the chariot in its course. “I remember,” he sighed. “But he also said that when the chariot was firmly under the charioteer’s control, and the beloved was certain of the lover’s worth, and his restrain, then the beloved allowed the lover’s advances, and loved him back. You won’t.”

“He also said that it is the best kind of love when both lover and beloved love each other with modesty and harmony. This is the kind of love we share with our brothers and sisters in Christ. Would you not rather share in this love?”

Lucius snorted. “You’d do better trying to convert the emperor.”

“I don’t think he’d understand.” Cas smiled at him. “I’ll prove to you the best way to love.”

“It is not fair. You claim a kind of love that’s chaste is best, but how can I prove to you my way is better if you deny my touch? Pleasure and love are tied together.”

Cas held his gaze. “I thought you agreed with Plato, that love of mortal beauty is but a means of understanding a glimpse of divine, immortal beauty. And how much more fortunate the man who recognises divine beauty itself? A beauty more pure and perfect than any kind of mortal beauty. So, why hold on to what is mortal and incomplete when you can have what’s perfect and eternal?”

“That’s the love your god teaches?” “It is.”  
Lucius shook his head, sighing. There was no talking to a converted zealot. He’d had to read Plato more carefully, or maybe Aristotle, even the Stoics who taught nothing but virtue, and then these memories of Jesus to find arguments, since his love was not considered enough. “I bet Titus never put his friend through such torments.”

Cas smiled. “Marcus made his intentions known to Father and had to meet Titus under the eyes of his tutor and Father for four years before he first touched his hand. I only ask you to stop focusing on the flesh and look for the spark inside you that wants to touch the Divine.”   
“As if that’s easier.” He’d take four years of supervised meetings if that would lead to some fulfilment of his desire than the complete renunciation of the flesh that Cas demanded.

Cas huffed, amused.

“And all that you do because you’re such a good Christian,” he said, and couldn’t hide some of the bitterness he felt.

Cas stopped smiling. “He is in love, but does not know with whom. And does not understand what has happened to him, nor can he say it. But he calls it and he thinks that it’s not love, but friendship,” he quoted from Phaedrus. “I thought it so, but now I’m not so sure.” He frowned. “What did Quadratus want?”

Lucius looked around, annoyed at the sudden change of discussion. Just as he had begun to see a glimmer of hope, Cas snuffed it out. “He wants you to join him for dinner tomorrow.”

“Perhaps I should go,” he said quietly. “Do you have writing tablets and a stylus?”

He nodded. “I’ll bring them.” What was he doing? Wasn’t he supposed to be angry or despondent, instead of following Cas’ orders? Why did he go and fetch? The soul of the beloved was no chariot; it was a dog, begging for scraps, wagging its tail at the sight of its master, and eager to fulfil his every demand even if he got a kick in the belly.

But when Cas looked at him thoughtfully, nursing the end of the stylus between his lips, he decided that he didn’t care if he was a dog or anything. Cas was half-trapped himself; all he had to do was persevere and teach him that love and pleasure was all mortals could get in this life. If the Fates were kind, and Fortune swift, he’d have those lips against his.

Wasn’t that in Phaedrus too? That the beloved, being in love, feels desire, and soon kisses and touches and wants to lie down with his lover? And everything happens, according to the nature of young men who love ardently and truly? He’d wait, and plot, and find the words to guide Cas to his arms.

“Pistos, Enaretos,” Cas suddenly called out, startling him.

Faithful and Virtuous. He smirked. Julia was definitely as annoying as her brother. Was her marriage chaste? He had to ask, but not today.

“Before you return home, take this to Quadratus for me,” he said as he handed one of the letters to one of the slaves. “And this to Marcus.”

“Marcus?”

“I think you should talk to him.”

Lucius did not agree, but didn’t object. Perhaps Marcus could help him in his pursuit.

&*&*

Of course, if he could actually tell Marcus what was the problem, he might also get his help. But Cas had guided him all the way to Marcus’ house, then declared that he wanted to have a bath, and left him alone in a corner of the courtyard, watching as Marcus received client after client. He couldn’t decide if Cas was being intentionally cruel or not. If Cas had wanted to use Marcus’ bath before going to see his friend, why had he used the excuse of getting him to meet Marcus? And why hadn’t he let him follow him to the bath?

And when the last of Marcus’ clients had left, Marcus looked at him so strangely that he didn’t dare say anything. He watched as Marcus went to find Cas and felt like leaving.

“It is time to go the Baths,” Antaeus whispered behind him.

Lucius was so startled he jumped up and fell against Amycus. “Missed us so much, little brother?” Antaeus smirked, “that you fall on us without prompting?”

Amycus cracked his knuckles, but he was grinning.   
Lucius shook his head. “Cas wanted to have a bath,” he said. “Cas?”  
“Cas,” he repeated, shrugging. If they minded his pet-name, what could they do but beat him? He’d deal with that.

Antaeus raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t mind.”  
“And that makes it better?” Antaeus glared at him. “You promised to respect him.”

“I do.” In the name of all the gods, no lover had ever respected his beloved as much as he did, but for what? He sighed.

Amycus stared at him. “And you keep your hands to yourself?” Lucius stared back.  
“Didn’t mean it,” Amycus said, and it was obvious he was lying. “The little lamb is purer than a Vestal Virgin,” he muttered.  
Amycus reddened. “I didn’t need to hear that,” he said, glaring at Lucius.

“It’s what you asked.” Lucius shook his head. “It’s bad enough he has all these crazy ideas, to have you thinking he should stay pure and chaste forever has made him all…” He suddenly turned around and pushed Antaeus. “You should have taken him to a woman already. Or a man.”

Antaeus pushed him back. “He’s a child.”

“He’s not,” he said, and heard Marcus speak at the same time with him, and say the same. He turned, and saw him smiling, so he glared at him. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Immensely.” Marcus crossed the small distance between them and took him by the arm. “Let’s go to the  
Baths.”

Walking together with Marcus was an interesting experience, and made him realise how much he’d gotten used to walking next to Gaius or Cas. They both walked as quickly as he did, sometimes faster, but Marcus was slow. Very slow. It was because he was so vain, letting people know he was coming and parting the crowds with his army of attendants.

And being in the middle of this forest of men meant that they had as much privacy as they wanted. Which Lucius hated and dreaded and, as soon as they were they out of the house, Marcus spoke. “I am not sure if you are worthy.”

“Of what?”

“Do not pretend to be stupid. Young Julius vows to your intelligence.” Lucius looked away.  
“When you last came to me, asking for Julius’ books, were you already aware of your condition?” “What condition?”  
“That you love Julius to this degree.”

Lucius snorted. “It’s not a sickness. Although it feels strange.” Marcus smirked. “Then why did you not declare your intentions?”   
“What? That’s a bit too private.”

“Now that Titus is gone, Julius is the one who will carry on the family name, and continue to serve the State as his father does. This,” he smirked, pointing at Lucius with his chin, “is but an interval. I will not tolerate anyone besmirching Julius’ reputation, since his father seems to have forgotten his duty towards him.”

“If that’s your worry, you should be threatening Caesar, not me.”

“Let me worry about that. I hate repeating myself. What are your intentions towards Julius?”

Lucius snorted. “Is that how you went about things? Cas said that you declared your intentions to his father and only after four years he let you and Titus alone.”

Marcus smirked. “He said that?” “It’s not true?”  
“Would you tell your father or your little brother that you were intimate with someone?” He waited for Lucius’ answer, but all Lucius could do was stare in amazement. “It’s true, I did make my intentions known, in the Greek fashion of old, and I waited until Titus wanted more from me, but we shared the intimacies that lovers share from the beginning.” He smiled. “He was my dearest friend, and I was his.”

Lucius wished he could stop and study the things on display, but all he could see was stalwart men around him. “I think… I know, I’d like that,” he said, feeling embarrassed. When Marcus didn’t speak, he looked at him. “You don’t approve?” he asked in a voice he didn’t recognize.

“As I said, Julius Cassianus will carry on his family’s duties when this ‘madness’ is over. If you do anything now, people will say it was because you were his master and he had no way to defend himself from your wickedness. Even those who don’t know him have heard of his virtue. Your rape will be a blemish but will not destroy his public career.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t want to rape him.” Just thinking of how close he’d been to doing that made him sick. That he could be accused of that, when all he wanted was to love Cas, was even more disgusting.

“You’re not thinking,” Marcus said, and his expression was gentle, his tone softer still. “You can’t do what you want to a freeborn man, not even when you love him.”

“You did.”

His gaze hardened. “There were some lines we never crossed. Unlike men of your ilk, we knew what was right and how things were done. Why do you think I made sure everyone knew I was his friend first?” His expression softened again, and Lucius wondered if he looked so bas as to invite the pity he saw. “In private, lovers can decide what they want to do. But in public, rules must be followed.”

“So, as long as I keep things hidden…”

“You’re still not thinking with your head. How much you must love Julius, to not see reason anymore.” He smiled. “I envy you.”

“You look like you pity me.”

“That too.” Marcus sighed. “If you love him as you do, will you be satisfied with ending your relationship when he is returned to his father?”

He stopped, and must have looked stunned and horrible, for Marcus stopped a moment later and pulled him gently forward.

“Don’t you see that someone like Julius cannot be seen with someone like you?” Marcus said, and gods, he really pitied him.

“Well, that’s all in the future,” he said, feeling angry. Why had Cas made him talk to Marcus? To point out how   
impossible it all was? Cas was definitely cruel, and sly, and scheming, and, he still wanted him. He was worse than a dog dying from grief at his master’s tomb, but he didn’t know what name to call himself anymore. “You should worry more about the emperor. He has his eye on Cas.”

“I said, let me worry about him. The question is, how to make you into someone suitable for Julius.” He blinked. “What?”  
Marcus smiled again. “For a week, Julius kept saying how kind and friendly you were to him. Kept telling me how clever and frustrating you are. And today he told me that you confuse him more than anyone else, even though he suspects what’s wrong. Do you think I can’t see into my little brother’s heart? The matter remains, you’re not worthy of him because of what you did. I’ll figure something out,” he reassured him. “So far, I’ve never stood by idle when Julius wanted something I could give. I won’t start now.”

Lucius stared at him. “I’m…”

Marcus shook his head. “Don’t thank me. After you came to me, I thought that your emotions, sweet and passionate as they were, were also fleeting. I was certain you’d give up once you realised that Julius was too virtuous for you. Instead, Julius is now confused, and you still pursue him. I was wrong not to start thinking of this seriously already.”

“Maybe you should give us money to go somewhere else. Caesar…”

Marcus looked at him annoyed. “I told you. The emperor is not your problem.” “He’s not. He’s Cassianus’. Even Cas is scared.”  
“Julius is scared of no one.”

Lucius smiled, wanting to believe that. Someone had to be unafraid, since going against Caesar scared him.

&*&*

Titus insisted he dined with him after the Baths, and sent him back in a litter. He wasn’t even drunk, too scared of doing anything inappropriate just as he had secured Marcus’ assistance, but Marcus had insisted on that too. For a moment, he’d thought that maybe Marcus was training him how to act as a rich man of some sophistication, drinking and eating in moderation but in heavy, silver plates, and being carried around by slaves, but that was just a stupid thought. He didn’t even mention it to Gaius, although he told him of everything else.

“And he really said you shouldn’t worry about the emperor?” Gaius asked when Lucius had finished. “He did.”  
“I wonder what that means. Maybe Cassianus’ father is ready to get over his hatred and ask you to give him back his son.”

Lucius sighed. That would be for the best, but he sensed that if Cas left him then, he’d never have a chance at winning his affection. “Cas says his father really hates him.”

“Nonsense.”

Someone knocked on Lucius’ door and they jumped a little. “Lucius? May I come in?” “Cas. Please.”  
Gaius smirked. “I should leave you two alone,” he said, standing up.

“Oh, Gaius, you’re here too,” Cas said, looking relieved, and Lucius didn’t know where the jealousy and the anxiety he felt was coming from.

“It’s late, and I was thinking of going to bed,” he said, smiling at his brother.   
“Can you stay up a few moments longer?” Cas put down the lamp and closed the door softly. “I don’t know what to do.”

Gaius frowned. He moved aside, so that the only space Cas could sit was between him and Lucius. Lucius could have kissed his brother.

Cas noticed too, and frowned for a moment. Then he settled between them, perhaps even a little closer to  
Lucius than necessary. “Well?”  
“I think something is happening,” Cas whispered to them. “What?”  
“Tonight, at dinner, Quadratus kept saying how the emperor is showing more and more disrespect towards the Senate, that he’s neglecting what his father taught and did.”

“And?”

“He was trying to make me agree that his behaviour towards me was unacceptable.” “It was,” Lucius said indignantly.  
“That is not the point.” “Then?”  
Gaius cleared his throat. “Does he want to use you as an example of the emperor’s behaviour?”

“He said, it was just one more of the grievances that senators had to suffer these days. Even Lucilla, the emperor’s sister, found herself insulted by the emperor’s behaviour.”

“Is that true?”

Cas looked at Lucius strangely. “I think Lucilla sleeps with him, and he will do whatever he tells her. I wasn’t sure before, but now I am.”

“Was she there?”

“She wasn’t. It was a very small dinner, just Quadratus and Marcia.”

“Marcia? That pretty woman that was...” He bit his lips, not knowing how to say he had noticed how beautiful she was, and how jealous he’d been.

“She’s his mistress, and she’s my sister.” “In Christ?”  
Cas nodded just slightly. “I don’t want to be used by anyone,” Cas whispered. “It was embarrassing enough to be attacked by Caesar under my father’s eyes, even if he left almost immediately, but to have Quadratus make this sordid story known to everyone? To have everyone pity me?”

Lucius reached for Cas’ hand, afraid he’d be rejected. Cas sighed when Lucius touched him, but didn’t pull away.

“I feel sick,” Cas told them. “He said he’d let me think about it, but the more I wait, the more likely it was someone would be suffer as I did. Wouldn’t that be awful?”

“What did Marcia say?” Gaius asked.

“That she hasn’t left her house in days, too scared of attracting the emperor’s attention. For some reason, she really loves Quadratus,” he said, lowering his voice even more.   
“All those insults to the Senate,” Gaius sighed. “Do you think…” “I don’t know,” Cas answered him.  
“What? What?”

“They’re plotting something,” Gaius told him impatiently.

Lucius snorted. “Maybe that’s why Marcus kept saying that I shouldn’t worry about the emperor.” Cas looked at him. “What else did Marcus tell you?”  
“Not much,” he lied.

“You won’t go to Commodus, will you?”  
“I’m but a slave. How could I be accepted to the emperor’s august presence?” Cas smirked for a moment. Gaius frowned again. “These are nothing but rumours. If they really are plotting against him, you’ll need  
evidence.”

“I know.” Cas lowered his head. “But part of me wishes they really are plotting against him, and that same part of me hopes they succeed.” He moved closer to Lucius, sighing. “I’m such a horrible person.”

“Why don’t you find proof first and then decide what to do?” Gaius asked.

“Why don’t you keep quiet?” Lucius told him angrily. “If they really are plotting something, you don’t want to get involved. If they succeed, all will be well for you regardless of what you do now. If they don’t….” He shuddered.

Cas studied him. “You don’t care about Commodus? He’s still the emperor. Killing him is as bad as killing your father.”

Lucius snorted. “Your father hates you, remember. What do you owe him? Or the emperor?”

Cas flinched. “I know,” he said in a small voice. “But he’s still my father, just as he’s still my emperor.” Lucius looked at Gaius.  
“Lucius is right. You don’t have to do anything.” “But if I do nothing while they plot? Is that right?”  
“What if you get involved, even by accident? Is that right?” Lucius squeezed Cas’ fingers. “Tell them what you told me, us. That you don’t want people to pity you. If they are your friends, they will understand.”

“He was more Titus’ friend than mine,” Cas murmured.

“That is irrelevant. He calls himself your friend, does he not?” “He does.”  
“Then, he’ll understand.”

Cas sighed, sounding unsure. “I’m tired. Good night.” He slid quietly away, picking the lamp on his way out. “I think,” Gaius said slowly, “that maybe you should go elsewhere for a while?”  
“As if I’m free.”

“If the emperor wants you, he can find you.”   
Lucius sighed. “I’m tired too.” Tired of everything. If only he could do as Gaius suggested.

**********

The morning came too soon and Lucius woke up feeling like someone had been watching him. He was alone, though, so why did he feel this way? He snorted. Wouldn’t it be interesting if Cas had come in stealthily, and watched over him, confused and curious? That would have been something.

Ah, he kept having one stupid idea after the other.

He looked around but there was no water in his room to wash his face. Perhaps Cas was right; he did need a manager, if Hermione kept forgetting to do these things. He started towards the kitchen, but the washing  
room was closer. Would Cas had left the tub filled with water again? And then what? He was tempted to go to the Baths, or maybe the Forum, see if Gaius was right when he said that if the emperor wanted him, he could find him. Or, he could stay at home, and read Cas’ books. So many things he could do.

But, the moment he walked into the room, all thoughts left his mind. One look at Cas and he was as young as a child, knowing nothing, thinking nothing except what was right in front of him. And what was in front of him was Cas, sitting awkwardly in the tub and washing himself, hair plastered on his head and skin slightly reddened from the scrubbing.

“Eh,” he said stupidly. “I’ll be back later.”

“I’m almost finished,” Cas whispered, avoiding his gaze.

He shook his head and took a step back. Cas sighed, and he stopped moving. “This is a bad idea,” he whispered.

“But how will you overcome temptation if you avoid me? Stay.”

Lucius studied Cas. “I don’t believe in temptation,” he said. “It’s best that I leave.” Because if he stayed, this time he wouldn’t hold back. He could feel it. Cas, wet and naked was a temptation that only Socrates could refuse. Perhaps the man had no desire left in him, except that of words, but Lucius was full of blood that flowed hot in his veins and too much spirit that could find no rest.

“But what about me?” Cas sighed again, and this time he looked at him. “I don’t know…” “What you feel?”  
Cas nodded, tried to keep his eyes down, and failed.

“But, to you it doesn’t matter, does it?” He sighed. “If this is love or friendship, or something else. You just want to see what it is so you can fight it. You really are cruel, Cas.”

Cas’ eyes widened. “I’m not. I…” He blushed deeply. “I think you’re a good man. Why do you insist on demeaning yourself?”

“And why do you deny yourself?” Lucius sighed. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll stay, but you’ll tell me what you want. Honestly. No more ‘I don’t know’ and ‘I’m not cruel, but…’”

Cas stared at him. He shuddered, and Lucius knew it wasn’t from the morning chill. “What I want is wrong. A  
sin,” he whispered.

Lucius swallowed. “Then, let it be my sin.”

“I can’t let you do that. You can’t sin on my behalf.”

“Whatever you want is a sin because you believe in your god. But I don’t.”

“You were still made in God’s image. We all were, and we all live because he commanded it. It doesn’t matter that you do not believe it’s sinful; it still is, in the eyes of God.”

“Then, tell your God to look away.”   
Cas looked at him both scared and amused. In the end, he smiled ruefully. “God sees everything.” “Then he’s a pervert.”  
“Don’t say that,” Cas hissed and stood up, too frustrated to stand still. “He’s God.”

Lucius made his hands into tight fists. His fingernails bit into his palms, but even this steady pain didn’t make his dick any less hard. The erection that had been plaguing him that morning, and that had become more insistent when he saw Cas, reached its peak. “You are not cruel,” he whispered, not knowing how to touch himself under Cas’ angry stare, and feeling this small flare of hope that Cas didn’t mind showing him his nakedness. “You are heartless.”

Cas looked down Lucius’ body and snatched his tunic hastily. He held it in front of him, perhaps too scared of revealing himself even for the moments it would take for him to dress. “I’m trying to save you.”

“What if I don’t want to be saved?” Cas’ stunned expression made him bite his lips. But he couldn’t take it back. Denying himself was the sin, this strange and abnormal vow to chastity. “I want to love you, but you  
say it’s a sin. Well, then, let me sin. But you don’t even let me do that. You really are heartless. If you were in the place of Pero, you’d have let your father starve to death.”

Cas smiled a little. “I don’t think your situation is similar to that of Pero.”

“Isn’t it?” Lucius touched himself then. “This is me, full of love and desire. A desire shown as nature commanded it, because I’m a man, and not a eunuch, or a child.” He then hit his chest with his fist. “And this is the prison that holds me.”

Cas took a step back, looking around as if he wondered if he could sidestep Lucius and run away.

Lucius moved forward, leaving the door open behind him and plenty of space for Cas to escape. “A body is but a prison for the soul, and mine…” He sighed, surprised that Cas hadn’t moved. “Love is a nourishment for the soul, and that’s what I’m asking. But if you won’t give me that, then give me your pity. Be charitable.”

Cas blinked. “This is…”

“What? Wrong? You said that before.” Why wasn’t Cas moving? Lucius took another step forward and Cas’ knees hit the edge of the tub, and he stumbled. Lucius steadied him, grasping his wrists. “It’s not wrong,” he whispered, trying to ignore the way Cas’ heartbeat raced beneath his fingers. But Cas wasn’t fighting him, or trying to escape, he simply stared at him, and that encouraged him. “It’s nature.”

“Men should rise above their nature,” Cas said as quietly. “Be stronger than that.”

“Then, be stronger, if you want. But let me be weak.” He raised his hand and touched Cas’ cheek. It was slightly hot and smooth and he couldn’t be anything but gentle. Cas leaned into his touch for a moment. “You still haven’t told me what you want.”

“I’m not sure,” he said, flinching when Lucius glared at him. “I really don’t know.” “If you don’t know, then why is it a sin?”  
“I…” Cas took a deep breath. “I want to touch you. But where do touches lead?” Lucius smirked.  
“That’s why it’s a sin.”

“And I told you before. Let the sin be mine.” “I can’t allow you to do that.”  
Lucius let his head drop on Cas’ shoulder. “Why do you make everything so difficult? We even want the same thing. We both want to touch. What’s wrong with that? Isn’t it a sign that this is destiny when we both think alike?” He shuddered, wondering why his stupid dick couldn’t curl and wither and die. Was it because   
Cas smelled so lovely? “What do you use to clean yourself? I saw you use a sponge,” he said without thinking.

Cas pulled away and stared at him so frustrated that Lucius almost grinned. In the name of Venus the Victorious over men and arms, Commodus had been right; Cas wanted to be seduced. Only he didn’t want sweet words and kisses; he wanted arguments and displays of devotion. Cas suddenly twisted and pushed him inside the tub. The water was cold and he bit back a yelp.

“I use soap,” Cas said as he showed him a small block with uneven edges. “German. It washes away all impurities, exactly as Galen says. And I’ve discovered that it works even better when you use a sponge. It doesn’t even ruin the clothes, like oil does.”

Lucius smiled. He helped Cas remove his tunic and stayed still, even if cold. But not even that seemed to make his erection go down for more than a moment. Cas’ hands, slowly moving over his back, had immense restorative powers. He closed his eyes, and leaned his head forward so that Cas could wash his nape with soft, exploring touches. Cas wanted arguments and games, and Lucius found himself grinning. Cas really was worse than a cat.

He shivered when Cas traced the length of his spine carefully, and then moved up again, fingers searching out muscles, thumbs pressing down randomly. The sponge felt scratchy against his skin, but Cas’ hands were soft and he couldn’t decide if he wanted to move backwards or forwards.

And then Cas moved and pushed him gently back and he couldn’t hide his nakedness from him, or his  
desire. Cas stopped, and stared at him, at his chest, at his hardened nipples, at his hard stomach, at his hard dick. But Lucius only looked at Cas’ face, and couldn’t make out his expression. “Don’t stop,” he whispered harshly, and Cas looked at him, startled. This time he recognised the emotion on Cas’ eyes. Panic. “Please.”

Cas shuddered. “I… I shouldn’t,” he said, unmoving.

Lucius grabbed his wrist. “I should say, you should finish what you started, but I will ask you to be merciful. Is charity a sin?”

“It isn’t.”

“Then show me some.” He guided Cas’ hand down his chest. “I beg you.” “This is wrong,” Cas said weakly.  
“Don’t you want to touch me?”

Cas looked away embarrassed and let Lucius hold him.

“I’m not gonna touch you. Your body stays pure. But,” he pushed Cas’ hand over his dick and closed the fingers gently around him. “Touch me. Please.” He guided Cas’ fist and stroked himself. “Look at me,” he said and didn’t smirk when Cas did, for Cas’ eyes were far too wide and still frightened. Not at what Lucius did, but at what Cas himself wanted. “This always feels good,” he whispered, “but it’s better when you love someone.”

“I love you, not this,” Cas murmured, almost whimpering, perhaps because he was stroking Lucius without any encouragement and he hated himself.

“It’s me, Cas.” He wanted to find a better argument, but it was getting more and more difficult every moment. Cas touched him artlessly, and some instinct guided his hand perfectly. Or maybe, it was perfect because it was Cas. Lucius didn’t know what it was, but it felt perfect and he couldn’t think more about it. “Cas, please, please.”

That same instinct that had guided Cas before, guided him again. Or maybe it was Venus’ golden-haired son who was guiding Cas’ fingers to squeeze and stroke his dick, thumb sliding over the head exploring and teasing. All the spirit in his body boiled and grew more and more agitated, until all his blood seemed to turn into white-hot foam that could no longer be contained. Lucius closed his eyes, and his whole body arched  
into Cas’ touch, wanting to melt into his hand, bones and flesh and skin all becoming liquid, fiery, transformed by his desire.   
When he opened his eyes, Cas was staring at his hand as if it had been stained by something other than semen. He closed his eyes again, wondering if he had made a mistake. Had he lost his prey for a moment of pleasure? Or had he managed to tear down Cas’ walls a little? He opened his eyes, and this time too Cas was staring at his hand, only it was no longer wrapped around Lucius’ dick, but raised up. As Lucius  
watched, Cas turned his hand around, studying it like it wasn’t his. Then he sniffed it, curiously. He licked it, even more curious. And when he realised Lucius was watching him, he paled, and ran out of the room.

Lucius closed his eyes. Cas had wanted this. There was no denying that. He could have struggled or ran away, but had chosen not to. But how could Lucius convince him that what they had just done was no sin?

Arguments and games. Lucius had won this battle, but not the war.

**********

Gaius came to find him some time later, looking confused. “There you are. Whatever did you do to your philosopher?”

“Nothing.” He got out of the tub and started drying himself.

His brother couldn’t care less he was naked. Whenever he wanted something, he could be annoying like that. “Nothing? I saw him running out of the house, and he didn’t even greet me.” He grinned. “He’s fast.”

“No matter how fast he is, he can’t run away from himself.” “Lucius. What happened?”  
“Nothing.” He put on his tunic. “I think I’ll stay here today and read.”

Gaius stared at him, frowning. “Fine. Then, tell me, what did he do to you?” “Nothing.”  
“You want to stay here and read.” “I do that from time to time.”  
“I know, but…” Gaius stared at him.

And he’d probably stare until Lucius gave up and answered him. He sighed. “Tell me, is there anything in the house about nature?”

“What nature? The universe? The world? That of animals?” “Something like that. But maybe it’s better if I read Cas’ books.” “You are hopeless.”  
“And you’re annoying. Why don’t you help me?”

“How?” Gaius hit him with the wet towel. “You don’t tell me anything,” he laughed. Lucius sighed. “What is natural for humans? That’s what I need to know.”  
“I thought you already know what it meant to be a man.”

“I know because I live, but I think Cas needs words from books.” Gaius snickered. “Cas, Cas, Cas. You still won’t give up, will you?”  
Lucius stared at him seriously. “If I give up now, I will lose him. I’m this close, Gaius.” Gaius’ expression, both curious and amazed, was worth making that confession.   
“But I need to be more persuasive.”

“I will help you, then,” Gaius said, smiling. “Only because you’ll be so insufferable otherwise.”

Lucius snorted. “You’ll help because you want an excuse for reading books.” He grinned. Wouldn’t it be nice if they all went to Athens? Gaius could study history and literature, or maybe philosophy, or even law. Away from Rome, where no one would know who they were and what they’d done, they could start anew.

Gaius shook his head. “You’re so…” “What?”  
“Nothing, nothing.”

He shrugged. It was a nice dream; wasn’t he allowed to have it? Unless his brother had meant to make fun of his condition. As if love was a sickness. Love was wonderful.

&*&*

He picked up the memories of Jesus, but the beginning made even little sense when he read it himself. Who was this Jesus? Where did he say that he was the son of Mary and god, as Cas claimed? Was it because  
the Jews were right in accusing the Christians of distorting the word of god, and instead of refuting them, this Mark had decided not to write anything about Jesus’ origins? If he was a Christian and knew that Jesus was the son of a Roman soldier named Panthera, who then learned magic in the land of Egypt, and lied and confused the people back in his country upon his return, then he’d want to hide this truth too.

At least it wasn’t written in a difficult language. Some of the things Gaius read were really complicated and, even though they made sense when he finished them, they usually gave him such a headache, he didn’t finish them. It was easier to learn from philosophers in the street. But this book was readable. As if it was written for simple people, who didn’t think much.

The beginning even reminded him of a book of marvels. Judea must have been demon-infested at the time of Jesus, for it seemed that he had to deal with them in every city, right from the start of his days as a preacher. But then, everywhere people believed so easily in demons and spirits and cat-gods who could be persuaded to act after sacrificing poor kittens.

No wonder philosophers and preachers abounded. In a world full of spirits, everyone sought how to escape their anger, either through reason or prayer. Lucius couldn’t quite believe how he found himself wanting someone so gullible as Cas.

And there was something else about that book; he couldn’t read much of it, even though it was just a collection of stories. There was little description, and even less in explanation. When he read a novel, he knew what the people looked like, and where they went. When he read a dialogue, the writer always made some effort to make a scene lively. This Mark only cared about bare facts and parables, and it was repetitive.

Would Cas be offended if he asked for a different book of memories? He picked up Paul’s letters next, and the writing was better. The first one he picked up even talked of Jesus’ resurrection, but then Paul started accusing people and saying all sorts of impious things. He even wrote that it was because people didn’t recognise god and for this evil the god punished them, and made them lie woman with woman and man wit man, and he really couldn’t understand. If god was good - for what god was evil - then why not guide people to righteousness instead of punishing them? And what kind of punishment was one that brought pleasure, and then led people to more evil - assuming that this kind of desire was evil, of course. Why couldn’t god punish them in a way that would make people realise the error of their ways and then go back to him?

He didn’t like this Paul much. But, somewhere there had to be words to help him persuade Cas. He’d find them.

&*&*

At some point he felt someone watching him, so he looked up. Cas avoided his eyes for a moment, but then he looked at him helplessly. “Father Philip wants to see you,” he said.

Lucius nodded. “When?”   
“In two days. If that is all?”

He frowned. Cas looked like he wanted to run away as fast and as quickly as possible. “Cas? Come here.” Cas sighed and approached him slowly.  
“Sit.” Cas obeyed him, and Lucius felt uneasy. He should ask, perhaps, about the book, instead of what Father Philip had told Cas, but he couldn’t care much about books. Not when Cas looked at him like someone who wanted to flee, but couldn’t. He sighed. “Are you scared of me?”

Cas frowned. “I’m not.” “Then?”  
Cas looked at him seriously. “I’m scared of myself.”

“Why? You did nothing wrong. You showed mercy to a hungry man, that’s all.”

Cas blushed a little when Lucius referred to himself as hungry. “I put your soul in danger. I should have refused you.”

Lucius smiled softly. “You said you love my soul. But a soul can’t exist without the body, so how can you love one without loving the other?”

“The body is mortal and weak; the soul is not. For the sake of life everlasting, we can renounce a few pleasures, can’t we?”

Cas looked like he wanted Lucius’ approval, but Lucius couldn’t agree with him. “Tell me, is your sister chaste?”

Cas stared at him with shocked, wide eyes. “She’s my sister,” he said forbiddingly.

Lucius grimaced. “I know, I know. I don’t like to think of Gaius doing it either, but I’d be more worried if he didn’t do anything.”

“What your brother does in the privacy of his room should not concern you.”

Lucius grinned. “As a big brother, I have to make sure he does something when he’s in his room, you know? But, we weren’t talking about Gaius. We were talking about your married sister. Or is that a rule among you Christians that no man shall lie together with his wife?”

“It’s better one stays chaste, but,” Cas looked around the scrolls and when he found the one he was looking for, he opened it and read. “It is good for man not to touch a woman. But because of fornication, let each man have his own wife, and each woman the same husband.” He skipped a few lines, and then continued.  
“And to the unmarried men and the widows, I say, it is good for them if they remain as I am. If they cannot be continent, let them get married; for it is better to be married than to burn. Thus spoke the apostle, and that is the rule among us.”

Lucius frowned. Paul clearly disapproved of relationships between men, or women, if he couldn’t mention them at the same sentence as marriage. He wouldn’t be the first, of course, to advocate marriage, but whereas the law-makers insisted on marriage for the sake of children, Paul made it sound like an unpleasant necessity. “Why is chastity so important to you? Is it for medical reasons? Like the doctors say, that it’s best for keeping your body strong and healthy?”

“I told you. Because the body is a temple of God. You wouldn’t defile a temple by fornicating in it, or the gods will punish you. Didn’t Zeus punish swift-footed Atalanta when she dared make love in one of his temples with her husband? Her husband, and yet they were not spared, but transformed into lions. How much more  
of a sin it is, when your own body is the temple of God?” “Yet marriage is permitted.”  
“Only because people are weak.” Cas sighed. “Please, can I go now?”   
Lucius shook his head. “You said you’d answer all my questions regarding what I read in your books.” Talking had made Cas look a little less trapped. He wouldn’t give up before he saw Cas relax, and then he’d let him go. “Another thing I don’t understand. Why does Paul permit marriage, but is so against men lying with men? Can’t a man love another in the same way that a man can love his wife? If marriage is such a chore, why does it matter if it’s because a man or a woman or… Well, not that I know of any marriage between men who were dressed as men, Nero had to have his boy castrated, after all, but you know what I mean.”

Cas’ expression changed, from tired to something Lucius couldn’t quite recognise. “It is true that there is nothing in the memories of Jesus about this, but…”

“So, if there’s nothing there, does that not mean that Jesus didn’t care? Why do you trust what this Paul said? Was he a god too?”

“Of course not. But he was one of his Chosen. His apostle. Jesus is God, and how can we know God’s mind? We need someone to explain His will.”

“So, you listen to Paul?”

“When you lived in the provinces, didn’t you listen and obey what the governor told you? And when you obeyed, it wasn’t him as a person that you obeyed, but because his command was given by Caesar, and his decrees had Caesar’s authority, you obeyed him as the person who carried out and explained Caesar’s will?”

Lucius nodded. “It is the same.”  
“Still, if I had Caesar’s word on one hand and some governor’s on the other, I would prefer the Caesar’s.” Cas almost smiled. “You would,” he said softly, playing with the scroll.  
“I would.”

“Then you should read His word.” Cas stood up, and gave the scroll he was holding to Lucius. “But Paul is worth reading too.” His thump fell on one word. Love.

Lucius smiled. “If you say so.”

“I do,” Cas almost smiled back. He tapped the scroll delicately, and Lucius couldn’t avoid seeing the same word again. “Can I go now?”

He nodded, and read what Cas had pointed out. When he finished, he grinned.

&*&*

“How’s your research going?” He asked Gaius the next morning.

Gaius stared at him balefully. “You don’t expect me to have read everything about nature in one day, do you?”

“Someone woke up grumpy today.”

“And someone looks like he inherited a fortune he did not expect, or…” Gaius’ expression turned sly. “Or someone who got lucky in love?”

Lucius snorted. “See you later. I expect a full report by the time I’m back.” Gaius glared at him. “You’re annoying. You should…”  
“Later, brother,” he cut him off. He needed to exercise and have a warm bath. He needed to have his mind as clear and his body as fit as possible before he could start reading these memories again. This was a battle  
he was facing, and no man ever went to a battle tired, or unprepared.   
Was Cas preparing too? Or had he come home the day before looking so tired because he’d been defeated, and needed Lucius to fight for him?

He snorted. For some strange reason, he saw a picture of himself as Perseus. He was wearing the hero’s winged boots, and the cloak too, and in his hands there was a curved sword, exactly like the one he used for fighting his opponents. The sky was dark above him, the sea below him raging, as if to make his situation even more dreadful. Amidst the waves, the sea-monster rose, as wild and fierce as the sea that had given birth to it. But on the rocks, tied and waiting for his end in silent fear and misery, was not the fair Andromeda, but Cas, pale, and tired and hopeless, a prize worth fighting for.

He kept having so many stupid ideas lately. But Cas was worth fighting for, and now that was on his side, and he wasn’t fighting alone, he wouldn’t give up.

&*&*

The next morning, Lucius followed Cas with some trepidation. Prepared or not, this was a battle. But he felt ready. And Cas squeezed his hand as he guided him out of the house, so he felt bold too.

“How long have you known Father Philip?”

“A long time. He’s one of Father’s freedmen.”

Lucius bit back a snort. How convenient. These rich people even had their own priests. But for Claudianus that Father Philip was perhaps as good as a snake, repaying his gift of freedom by taking his children away from their family gods, and he really couldn’t laugh anymore.

“He’s a good man,” Cas continued.

“I don’t doubt that,” he sighed. And probably, just like every good man he’d met through Cas, he’d try to rip his heart out of his chest and throw his liver to the dogs. But Cas was still holding his hand, so perhaps this time things wouldn’t go so badly.

“Did we have to leave so early?” he complained a while later. The lamp Cas was holding seemed to barely light their way, so dark the morning was. And the cold. When had the weather turned so chilly? Only days ago it had been summer still, and now autumn was moving steadily towards winter.

“Father Philip wanted to meet you before we give thanks to the Lord. If he finds you worthy, he will let you attend the liturgy like one who wants to be instructed. If not,” Cas sighed and gripped his hand more tightly.

“I will be worthy,” he promised.

“I know you don’t want to believe,” Cas told him, “but maybe one day you will change your mind?” Lucius shrugged. “Maybe? Will I have to remain chaste till the end of my days?”  
“You should. Or you could choose a wife.” Cas sounded slightly disapproving, and Lucius hoped it was because Cas didn’t want him with a wife, or anyone else, and not because he preferred him abstinent.

“I don’t want a wife,” he said. “I want you,” he muttered. Cas glanced at him. “But I want…”  
“You want?”

“Can we not sin anymore? Please?”

Lucius sighed, but Cas looked so hopeful and sweet, that he smiled immediately afterwards. “Did you not enjoy touching me?”

“I did,” Cas whispered, and his voice was so low, Lucius strained to hear it. “But a union of souls is so much better than that of bodies.”

“How can you know that if you haven’t been with anyone?”   
“How can it be otherwise, when the soul is so much better than the body in all respects? The body should follow its commands.”

Lucius smiled. “But what if you can’t separate the two?”

“I didn’t say that they were separate; I said, the soul is better.” “And what if by giving in to pleasure, you satisfy the soul?”  
Cas snorted. “No philosopher ever claimed that, not even Epicurus, and for a reason. Feed the soul  
pleasure, and it gets weak, soft, and forgets how to live well. Seeking out pleasure becomes its only aim, and then it gets perturbed and restless, constantly wishing for its satisfaction.”

“You sound more like a philosopher.” “Than a Christian? Why can’t I be both?”  
Lucius grinned. “But I do not ask you to give in to excessive pleasures, or to seek them out to the detriment of your virtuous life. I only ask you to take as much pleasure as would be enough to satisfy your love.”

Cas nudged him slightly. “I still love your soul more than your body. This,” he said and this time, he moved close to him and stayed touching him, “is all the pleasure I require.”

“You’re satisfied with so little,” Lucius smiled and broke free of Cas’ hold. Before Cas could protest or look at him affronted, he hugged him, and hoped that Plato had been right when he said that the beloved wanted hugs at first and kisses, and then he wanted more.

But, gods, how fortunate he was that Cas was a fool, a sweet, merciful fool who thought that Lucius would be satisfied with so little, even when he’d seen how ardent Lucius’ desire was. Or maybe Cas was so spoilt he couldn’t imagine anyone denying him, even when he wanted the impossible. He couldn’t decide which was, but he was grateful.

If he won the battle against Father Philip, his war would be half-won.

&*&*

Julia was waiting for them at the entrance of her house, and Lucius marvelled at the love between the siblings. But behind her was a man in a plain, white tunic that almost shone, so white it was. It could only be Father Philip. He was shorter than Lucius, and his face was wrinkled and austere. This was not the face of a kind man, but one who would remove Lucius’ spleen and liver before he cut out his heart. He smiled pleasantly at Julia instead.

“This is Father Philip,” she said. “I shall let you talk,” she continued taking Cas’ hand. “Juli and I have a lot to discuss.”

Cas gave him an small, encouraging smile, and then Lucius was left alone with the sea-monster. “Cassianus told me everything,” he said, not losing time.  
Lucius frowned. “Everything?”

Father Philip led him to a secluded room, and then he closed the door behind him. “Sit,” he said, and Lucius sat on the nearest chair he saw.

Father Philip didn’t say anything. After a while, Lucius wanted to move, and look away. Fuck; this was no way to win a battle. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Father Philip kept staring at him, and he started fidgeting,  
only to stop immediately after a withering glare. “Is this gonna take long?” Father Philip narrowed his eyes.  
“Look, I don’t know what Cas told you, but he…” Fuck; for Cas this was a sin. He couldn’t rat him out to his priest. “It wasn’t his fault. I made him.”   
Father Philip kept glaring.

“He didn’t do anything, you hear me?”

Fuck; the man was worse than Gaius when he angry and annoyed. If he hadn’t heard him speak, he’d think he was mute, so silent he was. Lucius ran his hands through his hair, despairing. How was he supposed to win an argument against a man who wouldn’t speak to him?

“You have no shame, do you?” Father Philip suddenly told him. “Just because you’re legally his master does not mean that you have to treat him with no respect. From what Cassianus had said until this week, I had thought you were a good man.”

Lucius shook his head. “Name your price.” “What?”  
“I’m not asking you to release him. I’m asking you to tell me how much you want to let Cassianus stay with me, or his sister.”

Lucius blinked. Perseus wouldn’t have abandoned Andromeda to her fate for all the gold of Ethiopia. “I can’t put a price on him,” he said slowly. What did he have to lose? This man thought him a cruel and perverted master, anyway. “You see, a slave cannot evaluate his master.”

Father Philip stared at him.

“The way I see it,” Lucius continued, “he is the master, and I am his slave." Father Philip looked intrigued enough to speak. "Why do you say that?” “Because,” Lucius said sighing, “I love him.”  
The priest stayed silent.

"You must think me a sinner and a pervert right now." Like Cas, who thought him a sinner, and that crazy old man outside the temple of Hercules, who would have thought him a pervert.

Father Philip narrowed his eyes. “If you acknowledge your sin, then why do you not hide your head in shame, and dare defend yourself instead?”

"Didn't that man Paul write that 'there is no Jew or Greek, no slave or free, nor male or female in Christ Jesus'? And that 'the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, long-suffering, kindness, faith, humility and self-control'?"

The priest looked at him very strangely, like he had never expected someone like him to have read anything Christian. But Lucius only wanted to understand Cassianus, and have Cassianus love him back. How could he not study what Cas studied? Even if it had been under Cas’ insistence and Cas had shown him what he had to read.

"Father," Lucius continued, "I have slept with him in the same bed, and never touched him. Not once. Not even when I wanted it." He shook his head, smiling at how foolish he sounded. Not even Socrates had defended himself like this. "Never. So, tell me, Father, how can my love be a sin, when I have shown nothing but constancy and patience, self-control, and humility, and have made myself the servant of my slave?" Lucius leaned forward, staring at the priest. "If he told me that he loved me, but that I still couldn't touch him, because that’s what his God wants, I'd do it." He almost swore it, but then remembered what he had promised himself and looked away, sighing.

The priest stared at him. "Love is not the sin," he said seriously after a while. "It is the defiling of your body. Because your body was made in the image of God, and houses the breath of life that God gave you."

Lucius smiled. "So, I can love him?"   
Father Philip glared at him, shaking his head in resignation. "Does that mean that you won’t consider my offer?"

"I'll think about it."

The priest frowned. "While you may say you have become his servant, you are still his master by law. If you really love him as you say, you will not force him.”

Lucius blinked. “I would never force him,” he said fiercely. “Never.” He looked steadily at the priest. “I swear, I  
will never do that, and never allow another to touch him.”

Father Philip looked at him seriously. Suddenly he smiled. “Cassianus did say you are a good man.”

Lucius smiled a little. “If I promise again that I won’t hurt him, will you spare me the threats? Everyone things  
I’m some kind of savage, or maybe a wolf, wanting nothing but to devour that poor lamb.” “Only because the lamb is precious.”  
“And do you think I do not see its worth?”

“I do now,” he said and opened the door. “Come. Cassianus said you want to learn the good news of Jesus.” Lucius stood up, nodding. He’d heard priests and philosophers before. One more wouldn’t hurt.  
**********

Father Philip led him to the courtyard. Apart from Cas, Julia and her husband, there was the Christian philosopher he’d met before and another man. An old man, dressed also in plain white clothes approached him. He was tall, but corpulent, with smooth, soft-looking skin, and a kind and gentle expression. "Peace be with you," the man said as he greeted Lucius. His voice was higher than usual and suddenly everything made sense, his height, his weight, his smooth skin. A man, but not a man; a eunuch.

“What makes you come here?” the philosopher asked him.

Lucius grimaced. He couldn’t answer, ‘Cas did,’ could he? “What do you mean?” “Why do you want to come forward to the faith?”  
He looked at Cas. Cas hadn’t mentioned anything about him having to convert. “Why not?” Cas made a tiny, negative gesture.  
“Clearly, this man is not ready to become a member of our church,” the eunuch said.

“Forgive me, Elder,” Cas said quietly, “I brought him here, for I thought it would be of benefit to him. He is a good, honourable man.” He turned to Father Philip. “You said, you’d be the one to determine whether Lucius was ready or not to listen to the teachings of Jesus and learn the true way. So, why this interrogation?”

The eunuch answered him. “This is how we do things, child.”

“I only wanted to remind him of his duties as your,” Father Philips looked at Julia as if for support. She nodded. “And after consultation with Presbyter Hyacinth, we decided that it would be best we both judged this man’s petition to join us.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes. “I’m here, you know,” he muttered. Father Philip almost smirked, but glared at him instead, willing him to stay silent.

“It is not a petition, it’s a calling,” Cas told the priest. “And I feel that his soul yearns for the word of God, that’s why I brought him here. If you deny him…”

“I didn’t say anything about denying, son. I said, ‘he is not ready yet’. Perhaps, in the enthusiasm of your youth, you thought that he is, but I do not agree.”   
He had to decide what he’d say, or even if he would say anything. He wasn’t ready - or even willing - to join Cas’ cult, but, Cas wanted him to learn. But before he could make up his mind, Cas moved next to him and took his hand.

“He doesn’t know he’s ready,” Cas said staring at him, “but I know he is. His actions show it every day, his words every moment.” He looked at his priest and the presbyter. “People say dreadful things about us all the time. That we eat infants and fornicate, and keep ourselves apart from the world because of our corruption. Turn Lucius away now and what will he think? That we are denying people entrance to our assembly arbitrarily and are secretive for a reason. It may be just the enthusiasm of my youth speaking, but we have to change our ways. I know this is not the proper place to discuss this, but,” he turned to Rhodon, “as you say, we need to explain our faith with philosophy, for the best men and women to listen to us. So we must open  
up entrance to the assembly and let all who desire to learn, learn.”

The priests stared at them and Cas squeezed Lucius’ hand. That gave him strength. “I’ve come this far,” he told them. “You wouldn’t keep outside a man who came late at a banquet, yet you would keep me when I’ve come to take spiritual sustenance from you?”

Presbyter Hyacinth smiled. “We accept this man, Rhodon,” he said, “and we’ll find ourselves with another fledgling philosopher.”

“I leave all the philosophy to Cassianus,” Lucius whispered. “Yet, you two argue often,” Father Philip said.  
Julia cleared her throat. “May I remind you to resolve this quickly? My brother is right, this is not the place to discuss this, and I will leave no faithful waiting outside my doors while you decide if this man can learn our faith. If my opinion counts for anything, I say ‘let him’. Our Lord Jesus spoke to all, children and old, free and slaves, Jews and Samaritans and he never refused teaching or answering questions. If someone comes to us, wishing to learn, can we do what our Lord never did?”

“Women like to see to the management of their households first and then the church’s,” Rhodon said. “Yet, unlike a woman, Lady Julia, you spoke and reminded us of the rule of charity. Since I was asked to attend this council, I say, ‘let him attend,’ and bid you, Brothers to discuss this further when the time is right.”

Presbyter Hyacinth smiled again. “The times are indeed changing. Lucius, I do not think you are ready for the Lord’s teaching, but the Lord did teach the willing and the unwilling alike. I hope you will not prove like the unfaithful, accusing us as they did the Lord.”

“I trust Lucius with my life,” Cas said. “He will neither accuse nor betray us.”

Father Philip stared at Cas. “Show him his place to sit, then, and explain what you must.”

“Thank you.” Cas, still holding Lucius by the hand, kissed his priest’s hand, and then that of the presbyter. They both patted his head, Father Philip looking at their joined hands crossly, the presbyter frowning in surprise. Yet none said a word, and Cas seemed so oblivious, that the presbyter smiled again.

Lucius didn’t speak either, but when they reached their destination, and Cas made him sit down, he decided that he had to ask. “You’re holding my hand,” he pointed out.

“I am?” Cas frowned, looking down. “I am,” he said as if he’d just noticed it. “I thought your priest would mind, yet he said nothing.”  
Cas sat down next to him, and removed his hand.”Why should he mind?” “Well, touches lead to sin. You said it yourself.”  
“But you promised we wouldn’t sin anymore, didn’t you?”

Looking at Cas’ impossibly wide eyes made it difficult to remember what they had said. All he wanted was to pull Cas into a hug, and then kiss his eyelids softly, and his cheeks, and the tip of his nose, and… “I didn’t promise anything,” he remembered. “I asked you to accept pleasure.”   
Cas scrunched up his nose and pouted for a moment. Then he smiled. “It was worth a try, wasn’t it?” “Does this mean so much to you?”  
“Of course. Now, let me explain. You will sit here, beyond this partition, together with the other catechumens. When the time comes, the deacon will close the door and you may remain here, or…”

“You are avoiding the subject.”

“And you’re not listening. You came here…” “You brought me here,” he corrected.  
“I had to,” Cas said quickly. “Father Philip wanted to meet you, and I want you to share the joy of living according to the word of God.” Cas touched him briefly. “I...” he started, then seemed to notice that people had started trickling in the room and he stood up. “I have to go.”

Lucius nodded, frustrated, and looked around instead of at Cas, who was busy greeting and guiding people. The room was large, with winged Victories carrying incense burners or libation bowls or palm branches painted on the walls, each one framed by slender columns and yet not alone, as they all seemed to approach Orpheus, painted on one of the narrow walls. The floor was made of coloured marble arranged in geometric patterns and judging from the quality and rarity of some of the stones, it must have cost a fortune.

When he looked up he saw Marcia. He smiled and waved at her and she, looking around for a moment, walked towards him. She wasn’t dressed seductively and her veil was thick, but the way she moved spoke of elegance. She seemed to glide. She sat next to him carefully, and smiled.

“Cassianus is trying to convert you or have you decided to join on your own?” “A bit of both.”  
She nodded. “That’s good.”

“I don’t know yet, but I’m here to find out. Was it easy for you? Becoming a Christian?”

She blushed and shook her head for a moment. “I’m not baptised yet. I’m still learning, if one can say that.” “But Cas said you were his sister in Christ.”  
“Cassianus thinks that from the moment we decide to accept His teaching we can be called brothers and sisters in Christ.” She smiled. “He also thinks that since we were all made in God’s image, we are all brothers and sisters regardless of being baptized or not, but not everyone agrees with him.”

“But you do?”

“It’s a nice idea, is it not?” She smiled gently as she stood up. “I don’t think man can survive on ideas alone,” she whispered, “and maybe that is why I can’t make the decision to get baptised and not because I am too corrupt by my wicked life, as some will tell you, but the world is better if some can keep their faith and live according to it.” He must have looked surprised, for she nodded. “I’m living as a man’s mistress, and no matter how illustrious this man is, our union is still not that of husband and wife. But my Father understands that I had no choice in the matter, and my friends don’t care, so I don’t mind what others say.”

“I don’t think people have a right to judge you. Or anyone else for that matter. What you do is your own decision, or fate or whatever.”

She grinned. “Or whatever. Next week, would you and Cassianus like to come for dinner?” “I think so. I’ll ask Cas first and let you know later.”  
“You’ll ask him first,” she mused. She leaned down. “I think you should hear the word of God, but delay converting as much as possible,” she whispered.   
“Marcia dearest.” Julia kissed Marcia and then smiled at Lucius. “I forgot to ask you before and knowing my brother, I know it will have escaped his mind completely, but would you like to have dinner with us tonight?”

“Only if you can invite Gaius too.”

“Your brother? Of course.” She took Marcia’s hand. “Come, dear. Is this new?” she asked touching the veil lightly. “It is beautiful.”

“I had it made this week.”

“I love the colour,” Julia continued as they walked away. Lucius snorted. Women.  
&*&*

From all the things he had heard from Cas, few as they were, he’d thought that the liturgy would be something like a festival but without the sacrifice, perhaps more boring. He had expected the songs,  
although not that they would use a mixture of Greek and Hebrew, ‘amen’ and ‘maranatha’ exchanged for truly and our Lord has come without any seeming reason.

But he hadn’t expected that there would be so many of them, or that they would be boringly repetitive. A hymn should praise god, indeed, but a good hymn should also say why the god was to be worshipped; how he had come to be, what he looked like, what he had done. These Christian hymns were all about the power of god, and how it was good to praise him, and thank him for what he had given them. But what had he given them? Lucius couldn’t understand. Unless it was all one long hymn that just wouldn’t end.

He couldn’t even ask anyone, since the men next to him all knew the words and sung together with the rest of the assembly- not so very harmoniously, it had to be said. And he suspected that if he dared ask  
questions, Deacon Euthymes would kick him out. The man was like a hawk, or maybe a guard dog, watching them all with restless eyes, and even hitting a couple of people when he thought they weren’t paying attention.

After the hymn had ended, and they all sat down again, Father Philip gave a book to Cas and Cas started reading from it. It was even more difficult for Lucius to concentrate on the words this time. Cas’ voice was just too distracting, and his tone, sometimes soothing, sometimes hard and anything else that the text  
demanded, made Lucius feel caressed. Soft and gentle at one moment, forceful and demanding the next. The touch of a voice should not be like the touch of hands upon his skin, but why was it so when Cas read?

Even though he did not believe, he felt uncomfortable for getting hard while Cas read. Did this count as defilement when it happened in a temple of a god he didn’t believe?

It took Cas ages to finish reading, and even more time for Lucius to bring himself under control. Although the fact that Father Philip was doing his best to look as stern as possible as he explained what Cas had just read did help. And then the teaching was over, and they were all called to pray.

Lucius glanced at the people next to him, and stood up a moment later after they did. He even raised his hands and spread them up, feeling stupid and like everyone looked at him because he didn’t know the words to their prayer.

Cas was a dreadful teacher, explaining nothing and instructing even less. Or maybe he was a bad student; not caring about Cas’ faith. His hands almost fell when he realised what he was thinking. He didn’t want to convert. Why did he mind if he learned the words to a prayer or not?

Thankfully, after that Deacon Euthymes came, put his sweaty hands on their foreheads and the partition was pulled. They were separated from the faithful and dismissed. “What are they doing?” he whispered to the man next to him. Maybe this was the part where Christians had their orgies, but all he could hear was another hymn, or maybe a prayer.

“It is the time of Thanksgiving. Is this your first time here?” He nodded.   
“We should pray too,” the man said standing up. “So that the Lord helps us do His will.” “I need to get some air.”  
The man frowned, disappointed. “You shouldn’t leave.”

“Oh, I won’t be. I just need to stretch my legs and get some air. I’ll be right back.”

He walked out and found his way to the courtyard. It was bitingly cold after being inside, surrounded by so many people, and it looked like it would rain soon. But he couldn’t go back. These Christians were strange. He didn’t think they were impious any more, not after seeing how often they invoked their Lord in their prayers, but they were different. They had seemed happy, and it wasn’t because they were going to get free meat, or they met with their friends while showing off their finery. It was different, and it confused him.

Perhaps he should have paid more attention to what Cas had read or Father Philip explained. Or not come with Cas at all; let his priest think him a monster and a sinner and a danger to his precious, little lamb.

He leaned against a column, staring at the sky and wishing Gaius was there already.

&*&*

Gaius waited until they were back at the house to ask him. “How was the Christian thing?” “The liturgy?”  
Gaius nodded.

Cas glanced at Cas, busy sharing with Hermione and Phoenix what his sister had given him. “It was boring. All reading and singing and praying. More boring than a festival, and without any food.”

“I bet they say it’s food for the soul,” Gaius smirked.

“They do.” He rubbed his eyes. “I was glad you came. I don’t think I could have sat through another dinner with them discussing their philosophies.”

“They did ask you if you had any questions. It was only because you said you had none, that they started talking about the danger of idols.”

“And you could have defended the gods of your forefathers instead of staying quiet,” Lucius said.

“I only followed your example. If you didn’t speak up for them, why should I?” Gaius smirked. “By the way, was the duck good? I didn’t have a chance to try it, seeing how you were more concerned with eating most of it than speaking up for our ancestral gods.”

Lucius really hated his brother. He hit him on the head and went to Cas. “I didn’t have a chance to thank you for today,” he said, gesturing Hermione and Phoenix away. The food had been delicious, after all.

Cas smiled at him. “I should be thanking you.” He looked at him shyly. “It is cold tonight,” he whispered. “Could I sleep with you?”

“Of course,” he said, biting back curses and thanks. Cas had to do this on purpose, perhaps as a lesson to self-control, and Lucius didn’t know if he was grateful or not.

A while later, when they were both in bed and Cas complained of the cold again, he decided he was grateful. Cas burrowed in his arms without asking permission first, so certain he must have felt of his welcome, and Lucius couldn’t do anything but rub Cas’ hands with his own. Cas’ fingers were frozen, and his toes were even colder as Lucius accidentally brushed his feet against Cas’. The moment Cas tried to pull away, he trapped Cas’ feet between his own, and started massaging them with his toes, and the soles of his feet.

It made Cas make some very happy, small noises and Lucius wondered how he could turn them into moans. “If you want, I know of a quicker way to get you warm,” he whispered, almost kissing Cas’ fingertips.

Cas didn’t answer him.   
“Cas?”

Cas sighed softly. He shifted a little, and Lucius realised he’d already fallen asleep.

Lucius smiled, and kissed the top of his head. Perhaps Cas really was happy with being held and feeling warm and safe. Perhaps he too was happy doing nothing but holding his beloved and keeping the cold away from him. Not that he would admit it to anyone else, and he’d make his best to forget it by the end of the night.

But in the morning, when the child would give way to the man, Lucius would make his move.

&*&*

Sometime during the night, Cas had moved away from him. Lucius pulled the blanket up, too tempted not to study Cas. Sprawled on his back, with his arms flung over his head, and his tunic riding high on his thighs,  
he was more seductive that Endymion. Just like Endymion, he looked lost in sleep and waiting to be touched. Lucius considered this. Begging Cas to touch him was one thing, but this?

If only Cas didn’t look so peaceful, so abandoned. At first he dared not touch, and then he did. Cas’ body was a feast, but if he wasted time on the first and second courses, he’d never have time for the main. This was not the way of lovers, but he was a thief, and he knew it. Still, he couldn’t stop.

He lifted Cas’ tunic further up and ran his fingers on the inside of his thighs, right where the edges of the loincloth fell. Cas’ skin was warm and smooth, hairs so fine and delicate as if they weren’t there, and his thighs were strong and muscled. Lucius imagined parting them further and sliding between them. Cas liked riding, didn’t he? He must have been skilled enough to guide his horse with the tiniest motion, thighs gripping tightly the flanks of his horse. How would it feel to have Cas grip him with his powerful thighs, hold him against his body and not let him go?

That was a question for another time. Cas was still sleeping peacefully, but he couldn’t waste more time. His hand hovered over Cas’ manhood. He could stop there, but Cas was half-hard, and he needed to feel him so much. So, he did.

The loincloth was made of the softest fabric, and Lucius knew he hadn’t given it to Cas. He didn’t dare unwrap it, but he imagined that the softness he felt reflected the softness of Cas’ flesh. Flesh that was growing harder at his light touch, lengthening and pulsing, answering Lucius’ need with want. And not even the fabric could cover up the warmth that burned his fingertips.

Cas moaned a little, and tried to move closer to him, body arching, hips thrusting upwards. Lucius looked up, but he was still asleep, expression no longer relaxed, but frowning, eyeballs moving rapidly beneath his eyelids. Lucius continued stroking him gently, and Cas mewled deep in his throat, turning his head to the side, with cheeks stained red and mouth half-open in pleasure. Lucius teased the head with the edge of his thumbnail, and Cas let out a drawn, strange sound, half-moan, half-sob, and his whole body tensed. His release was liquid warmth on Lucius’ fingers, and Lucius wished he could kiss the tiny gasp he let out.

Instead, he pulled down Cas’ tunic, covered him with the blanket again and smelled his fingers. He could smell Cas there, faintly sweet and nothing like him. And then he brought himself to completion, with a few, well-practiced strokes, turned around and went back to sleep.

&*&*

When next he woke up, Cas was sitting at the edge of the bed studying him. He had new clothes on, and his hair was still a little wet. “Are you awake?” Cas asked him.

“Not really.”

Cas smiled a little. “Can I join you?” “You can do whatever you want.”  
Cas slid down, but stayed over the covers. His hand strayed towards Lucius’ face. “Yesterday,” he started. “Thank you.”   
“Cas.” He took Cas’ hand in his, and stopped his exploration. “Don’t start something you won’t finish,” he said sternly.

“You didn’t mind sleeping with me yesterday. You didn’t get any urges,” he said, looking away embarrassed for a moment. The ‘unlike me’ was left unsaid.

Lucius smirked. “Only because I was tired. But, why did you want to sleep with me?” Cas didn’t look at him.  
“Cas?”

“I’m not afraid of you, but I’m… I still want to touch you and… Father Philip said that my desire may be because I miss my brother. That I need to find out if it’s true or not.”

“And? What have you discovered?”

Cas touched him again, a gentle brush of fingers across his temple. “I never wanted to touch Titus like that. I never admired Titus the way I admire you.” His hand stopped, and then moved again, until he could trace Lucius’ lips with his fingertip. “I think, if I sleep with you, and get used to you, then maybe seeing you won’t make me feel all,” he shuddered and took his hand away.

“How?”

Cas stood up so quickly, Lucius felt dizzy. “Please, promise not to ask this again.”

“Cas. You tell me you feel something for me, and that you want to touch me, when you know that I feel nothing but love for you? And then you ask me to leave you alone? How cruel you are.”

“I want us to live in pure love with each other. To not touch each other sinfully, but in the spirit of affection and care that is shared between members of the same family. I do not wish to touch you in any other way, even though I…” Cas shook his head.

Lucius frowned. He didn’t tell Cas that when he trailed his fingers all over him the touch was not that of brothers, unless there was something Cas wasn’t telling him about his relationship with Titus. And then, he suddenly stopped thinking of touches and sex, and listened. “You want us to live in pure love,” he repeated.

“The love of two souls is better than that of two bodies.” Cas shivered. “To think I wouldn’t have met you if the emperor hadn’t punished me. And my life is still in his hands. As I am, I can’t give you anything but my faith. Won’t you accept that?”

He sat up. “I’d rather have you in my arms, body of flesh and blood and bones, than your soul.”

“You can have me in your arms,” Cas said, and there was the tiniest hitch in his voice, matching perfectly with the tiniest red blush on his cheeks, “but we cannot sin.”

Lucius took a deep breath, and his whole body shuddered. “We’ll see,” he said, not caring about the disappointment in Cas’ eyes. He wouldn’t lie to Cas; he wanted him. Body and soul. He wouldn’t take one without the other. “What do you want to do today?”

“Nothing.”

“There is a festival in honour of Mars today, horse races followed by the sacrifice of the winning horse.” Cas made a face. “Horse of October,” he muttered disdainfully.  
“We could go to the horse races, at least.” “You could.”  
Christians. “What about…”   
“Books? I haven’t had a chance to visit any of the bookstores and…” He grinned. “Books it is, then.”  
&*&*

Even though most of the bookstores could be found along the Argiletum road, and especially close to the statue of the Sandal-binder, Cas chose to go along the Sacred Road, where the bookstores were so few as to be almost unnoticeable.

“I really don’t understand why you can’t even go to the races. Gladiatorial spectacles I can understand, but you go into temples.”

“Going to the races is like going to the theatre. There are spaces where people go to feel excitement and passion and lust and…” Cas grimaced.

“You’re afraid.”

“I’m not. I don’t like them.”

“You’re scared they’ll put your soul in danger.”

“You’re putting it in danger enough,” Cas whispered darkly.

“But you still love me?” He couldn’t help grinning and hugging Cas. Cas slipped away from him. “You’re being an idiot.”  
If Cas wasn’t smiling, Lucius might have believed him. He moved forward, thinking of how sad and angry Cas had been at first and how much he’d changed until now. In a way, it had been like watching a bud blossom into a flower. Cas still fought and resisted, but then, he was no ordinary flower. He was a rose, and he was still covered in prickly thorns. But Lucius would remove them all, sooner or later.

A moment later, he realised that Cas was no longer with him. He stopped, looked back and found him standing outside a bookshop. He turned around immediately, the sight of an old man in a dirty, philosopher’s mantle standing a bit too close to Cas making him hurry. He pushed the old man aside and put himself between him and Cas, and when the old man glared at him and cursed him, he snorted. If that was a philosopher, then he was a Vestal Virgin.

The bookshop was big, advertising several books outside, with tablets proclaiming how interesting and exciting they were, whereas inside, people were sitting, checking books at their leisure. A simply-dressed older man explained a passage on one of the customers, whereas another was trying to attract attention to the book he was holding. A philologist and a grammar teacher, perhaps. But Cas saw none of that, eyes fixed on one of the tablets.

“What is it?” Lucius finally asked.

“A new edition of Galen’s On the Doctrines of Hippocrates and Plato,” Cas said longingly. “A new one?”  
“It says so here.” He pointed at the tablet, and then sighed. “I like his writings, but Father never allowed me to meet him.”

“He’s still in Rome, at the court.”

“But how would I meet him now?” He stared inside the bookstore, clearly avoiding Lucius. “Didn’t he write that slaves make excellent patients, because they’re already used to obeying? I could only meet him as a slave to experiment on now, and we both know that I’m not even a good slave.”

Lucius frowned. “Will you stop saying that? You’re a bad slave because you’re free.” Cas glanced at him, looking unconvinced.   
How could he get to meet Galen? But until he figured that out, there was something else he could do. “Do you want it?”

“What?”

“Galen’s book on the Doctrines.”

Cas made a tiny sound, half hopeful, half resigned. Of course he wanted it.

“Let’s go.” He tugged at Cas’ sleeve, and pulled him inside the bookstore. “Who’s the bookseller? I want to buy one of Galen’s books, the new one.”

The bookseller, a short, bald man with shiny eyes looked him up and down. A slave writing something studied him and snorted. “You want a book? Are you sure you can read?”

Lucius smirked. But before he could speak, Cas spoke up next to him. “You should not make hasty judgements. It is not the mark of a wise man.”  
The man who was explaining something turned and looked at them. “And what is that, young man?” “What is a wise man? Or what marks him? For wisdom may be a virtue, but it is one that is manifold. So,  
wisdom in battle requires different parts from wisdom in the time of peace, yet a man who is wise in both recognises the parts that are common in both situations.”

The bookseller frowned. “How so?”

“Take a dinner-party as an example,” Cas continued. “A wise host will not invite persons who do not get along together. He will strive for conviviality and friendliness among his guests, and creating an atmosphere of freedom and relaxation, make sure that his illustrious guests are not insulted by being placed below persons of a lesser rank, and that those of lesser rank can still feel free to speak their minds with impunity. The place where the party will be held must be selected according to the season, the foods chosen in accordance to the season, the importance of the guests, their age and health. This means that careful planning must be made, information must be carefully collected, the space arranged appropriately. Are these not the same principles one follows before going into battle?”

“They are.”

“Yet, no one would arrange a battle as a dinner-party, even though the principles guiding both operations are the same. Is that not a sign that wisdom is required in both situations, yet of a different kind?”

Lucius picked up a small book of love poems.

“One is wisdom, the other is not,” the philologist said.

“They are both actions that are dependent on intellectual wisdom, so they cannot be separated,” Cas disagreed.

He started reading the first few lines, but the poem talked of a clever woman who was cruel to her lover, and he put it down, feeling strangely uncomfortable. “This place sells books of Galen. Do you think the people here read Aristotle with the same passion that you do?”

Cas frowned. “Aristotle was inspired by God, though perhaps not as much as Plato. It is worth studying him, although this habit of people these days to read the commentaries of Aspasius and then claim they’ve read Aristotle is lazy and despicable. Did you know that he kept changing the order of words in the text? And sometimes he ignored words completely?”

Lucius grinned. He turned to the bookseller. “I want the new edition of Galen’s On Doctrines of Plato and  
Hippocrates. You must have a copy or two already made for impatient buyers like myself. Can I have it?”

The bookseller ran towards the shelves where he kept the books. Lucius followed him. By the time he had paid for the books, and had it in his hands, some dirty old oaf with several golden rings on his fingers had crowded Cas against a table and was asking his opinion on a particular passage. He sighed. Antaeus had   
been right; Cas was like a child. He had to be supervised all the time, because he had no idea that people could be evil or mean.

He cleared his throat and glared at the man. Up close, he wasn’t that old, but he was still lecherous under all that perfume and wool. Men like him shouldn’t be wearing the toga; they only spoiled it. “Let’s go,” he said, and pushed the man aside when he realised that he wouldn’t move. The man tried to slap him, but Lucius blocked him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said, narrowing his eyes threateningly until the man had no option but to slink back.

Cas stared at him gratefully. Then he saw the book in Lucius’ hands, all the rolls neatly arranged in a small scroll carrier, he lifted up his eyes and asked. “For me?”

Lucius nodded.

Cas grinned. It was beautiful and he wished he could see it more often. A wonderful, full smile that made his eyes shine. A moment later Cas hugged him, honestly wrapped his arms around Lucius’ arms and shoulders and pressed his face against Lucius’. “Thank you,” he whispered, and it took Lucius a moment to realise that Cas had embraced him, and another to realise that he’d grabbed the carrier from Lucius’ hands and was holding it carefully. “Thank you,” he said again, blushing fiercely, and moving away embarrassed.

He shrugged, feeling his cheeks were on fire. The lecherous man was staring at him with hatred, and so Lucius dared take Cas’ wrist. When Cas didn’t protest, eyes still focused on his books, he looked back triumphantly, and went outside.

He really had to find a way to arrange a meeting between Galen and Cas. That might even earn him a kiss.

**********

“It is quiet,” Cas told him as they were walking along the Capitoline Road on their way to Hill.

“Because everyone is at the races.” He didn’t regret not going much, but he couldn’t help thinking what Gaius had said. Would seeing the races as a free man had made a difference in the way he perceived them?

“You could have gone, if you wanted it so much.”

Lucius snorted. Was Cas so stupid? Couldn’t he understand that he’d rather spend his time with Cas than with strangers? “I’d rather celebrate my triumph,” he laughed.

Cas frowned.

“The triumphal procession? Isn’t it supposed to be along the Sacred Road all the way to the temple of  
Jupiter, exactly as we’re doing?”

“It starts from the Triumphal Gate and we didn’t follow its route in the Forum.” Lucius studied him, eyes narrowing a little.  
“Besides, what are you celebrating? Whose defeat?”

“I was making a joke,” he couldn’t help saying this time. Cas blinked. “Why?”  
“Well, we were going up the Sacred Road and the Temple is right there and… why am I even trying to explain this to you?” If he weren’t so focused on Cas he would have missed the way his lips curved upwards for less than a moment, and how his eyes sparkled with amusement. He fought the urge to grab Cas in a strangle hold. “You wicked man.”

“I just like it when you explain things to me,” Cas said half-seriously.

Lucius stopped. The temple of Jupiter, Juno and Minerva with its gilded roof gleaming in the weak autumnal light rose before him, and he was certain that if he turned and looked at Cas, he’d commit an act both indecent and sacrilegious. He walked up the stairs instead, until he was standing next to one of its stunningly   
white columns and stared stubbornly ahead, at the golden doors.

“The marble is Pentelic,” Cas told him. He had managed to squeeze himself between the column and Lucius and was running his hand across a flute almost lovingly. “I think…”

“What?”

“I would have liked going to Athens.” He moved forward, and went inside the temple, ignoring all the other statues until he stood in front of the middle of the three cellae, where the statue of Jupiter was. When Lucius was next to him, he spoke. “Some say that these should all be destroyed.” His voice was quiet, in deference to the place, or maybe the few people milling around them.

Lucius studied the statue. Would this one, made of gold and ivory, compare with the most famous statue of Jupiter, the one in Olympia? “He spoke, the son of Kronos, and nodded his head with the dark brows, and all Olympos was shaken. Yet this god here is full of majesty and calm, like the image of the god in Olympia.  
Why would you want to see this destroyed? Christians are barbarians if they think that.”

“They’re images of false gods, and our Lord is a jealous one,” Cas smiled a little. “And they say there are daemons inside them, or that those you call gods are God’s Fallen angels, sent to lead men astray.”

“It seems to me that they have no idea what they’re talking about, if they can’t decide if these statues are evil because they depict gods other than the ones they believe in, or they have daemons or whatever. If you  
don’t know what something is, then you shouldn’t destroy it.”

“I think fear drives them,” Cas told him softly. “I agree with you, this is an image full of majesty and calm, full of a father’s serene justice.”

“Images help us understand what we can’t see. Do you use images? I saw one of Orpheus in your sister’s house, so you must.”

“We use it as a symbol of God’s power over the world, his calling sweet and persuasive, subduing all who hear it. But to answer your question, we don’t use images of God. That would be wrong.”

“Why?”

“Because God is too great to be depicted, too powerful and too mysterious. We’re just humans, and as none who sees His face can live, we choose symbols to convey His strength and grace.”

Something changed in Cas when he talked of his god. Lucius shivered. “I don’t know about you, but I think it’s blasphemy trying to convert me while we’re standing inside the temple of Jupiter. I keep expecting a thunderbolt to strike us down.”

Cas huffed, amused. “Do you think a false god has power over us?”

“Do you want to test if he does or not? Let’s go,” he said, and was tempted to grab Cas’ wrist and guide him outside, but Cas followed him without protests. “Also? Are you insane? What if someone had heard you? You know what they do to Christians, right?”

“I do.”

His eyes shone so brightly that Lucius was frightened. “Well, you may be willing to die for your faith, but it won’t happen while you’re staying with me.”

“What if it’s my destiny?”

“I don’t believe in destiny,” Lucius said vehemently as he walked along the colonnade on the side of the temple.

“You believe in Fortune.”

“It’s not the same. Fortune is about change, destiny is not.”

Cas smiled again. Lucius couldn’t understand what this meant, if it was pity or amusement or something   
different. He sat down, wishing he was a bird, an eagle perhaps, flying over the city. One of these birds that mated forever, and then he could live in freedom with his love.

Cas sat down next to him, bookcase set down protectively between his legs.

“That’s the theatre of Marcellus,” he said, pointing down towards the majestic building. “It’s a shame you never go to the theatre. It’s a good experience.”

Cas looked down at the bookcase, frowning. Lucius knew exactly what he thought. Should he open it now and read, or would that be too rude? He smirked. “Why don’t you open it?”

“It’s not that,” Cas whispered. “What are you doing here?”

When he looked at Lucius, he made Lucius feel both weak and strong, and he didn’t know how to answer. “I’m sitting with you.”

“Shouldn’t you be at the Barracks?”

First telling him he should have gone to the Games, now this. Did Cas want to get rid of him? “The Emperor can find me, if he needs me.”

Cas shook his head a little. “It’s not right and you know it.” His voice was lower, and he leaned close, as if that would make what he wanted to say next even more of a secret.

The sense of Cas’ body next to his, though, made everything disappear for Lucius. He could no longer see the people around them with their offerings and their curiosity, slaves and beggars and respectable citizens with nothing else to do. All he could feel was that Cas was warm next to him, smelling of clean, fresh sweat. All he could see was that his eyes huge, holding the promise of a clear, summer sky. And when he shivered, Cas put his free hand over Lucius’ free hand, and trapped him completely.

“You shouldn’t lose his favour because of stupidity,” Cas told him seriously. “He likes you.”  
“And you could win his favour just as easily,” Lucius said, even though the idea made his stomach turn. Cas’ eyes widened. “Not like that,” he hissed. “I belong to God,” he said next, but as he spoke, his cheeks  
reddened a little. “And I think,” he added slowly, and even more quietly, “if I were to give myself to someone, it wouldn’t be Caesar, no matter how much loyalty I owe him.”

Lucius swallowed. “You are considering it? Giving yourself to… someone?” he asked, not surprised when his voice had dropped as much as Cas’.

Cas looked away, and removed his hands from Lucius’. His blush remained.

Lucius smiled, and leaned back. He wouldn’t have to wait long, he was certain of it.

&*&*

As quiet as it had been on their way to the Hill, as noisy it was on their way back. The races must have been over for some time and groups of people hurried past them, chanting and shouting. A sea with waves as colourful as the garments of the people crowding them, as violent as their movements. Any other day he would have let himself be swept by their enthusiasm and their passion. He would have tried to find the people from the Subura, and joined them, fighting for possession of the sacrificed horse’s head. If they got that, their neighborhood would be lucky for the rest of the year, or so they said. But this time he had Cas to consider.

Lucius pushed Cas back, and was satisfied only when he felt Cas’ back hit a wall. He stood still, trying to protect Cas as much as possible from this crazy, violent mob, wishing they had stayed up the Hill a little longer, wishing he could transport them away with just a thought. People tried to push him aside, and he moved; he turned around and held Cas in his arms, feeling like he was sinking beneath the waves of shouts and screams and the motion of a thousand people running after a man carrying the horse’s head on a stick. For a moment he felt like the horse’s eyes were staring right at him, blind and blank and terrible. There was blood staining its pure, white neck, and he shivered. Cas embraced him, and he shivered again.   
Moments later the man with the horse’s head disappeared from sight, turning to the left, the crowd following him shouting and jeering. ‘Ours, ours,’ they all chanted and there was no joy in their screams, only threats. Lucius was glad to see them go.

Cas was still holding on to him, eyes half-closed and head resting on Lucius’ chest, like he was tired, or scared. “Are you well?” he asked when only a few people remained, too old or too slow to follow the swift progression of the human river across the road.

Cas pulled away and his expression was one of embarrassment. “What?”  
“You smell of spices, and sunlight. Like a wild forest,” Cas whispered. “Erm…” His body felt suddenly warmer.  
Cas took a step forward. “Can we go home now?” Lucius grinned. “Home.” He liked how Cas said that.  
&*&*

Phoenix had prepared something simple for dinner, and Lucius felt a little bad about it. He was a good cook; he should have been preparing proper meals and dinners for many, but instead he made food for Lucius’ small family. “This is ridiculous,” he said as Hermione brought the dishes.

“What?” She flinched away from him instinctively, and then moved towards the door. “Have you eaten yet?”  
She shook her head.

“Then, you and Phoenix should come here and join us. This is ridiculous, this division between master and servant when it’s just the four of us in the house.”

Cas frowned. He waited until Hermione was out. “You mean that?” “Of course. You disapprove?”  
“It’s irregular.”

“What does your religion say? Aren’t we all equal?”

Cas looked ashamed. “It says masters should be kind to their slaves, and slaves dutiful to them. We’re all equal in front of God, but not among men.”

“Then your religion says nonsense. If we’re all made of flesh and blood, then we should be all equal. Or you think that some are born free and some slaves, like Aristotle?”

“I…” Lucius was surprised to see that Cas could look even more embarrassed. “I had never thought such things before I came to live with you. I’m still not sure what I think now.”

He noticed Hermione and Phoenix and smiled a little. “When you figure it out, let me know. Hermione, will you sit with me?”

And if Gaius frowned a little when he saw them all sharing a meal, at least he had the presence of mind not to say anything.

“Who won? Did we get the Horse’s head or the Sacred Road residents?”

Gaius laughed. “We did. It’s hanging on the Tower of the Mamilii if you want to see for yourself.”

“That’s great.” Cas grimaced disapprovingly. Lucius threw a ball of bread on his head. “It is great that our   
neighborhood won,” he said. “That’s Fortune.”

Gaius poured some wine down. “To Fortune,” he said and Lucius followed his example. Hermione and  
Phoenix offered libations a moment later. Cas looked away. “You should pour some wine too,” Hermione told Cas quietly.  
“I don’t believe in Fortune,” he said, staring at Lucius for a moment.

“If I have no problem with that, then you shouldn’t either,” Lucius told Hermione and Phoenix before they could speak, using his most masterful tone.

Hermione studied Cas with great interest.

But Phoenix laughed. “Why didn’t you say you were a Christian, boy? And I thought you didn’t eat my food because you had a problem with me.”

Cas looked ashamed and surprised. “I have no problem with anyone here.”

“That’s good to know,” Gaius muttered, trying to be serious. He started laughing as loudly as Phoenix moments later.

“So,” Hermione asked Cas so quietly that if Lucius wasn’t sitting next to her, he might not have heard her, “do  
Christians have sex? Because I had heard they’re chaste, but you sleep with Master every night.”  
Lucius bit back laughter. “You’ve had too much to drink,” he told her softly, taking her cup away from her. Cas reddened. He looked ready to flee, and Lucius took pity on him. “Why don’t you read us something,  
Cas?”

“Something suitable for dinner,” Gaius added, still laughing. “And non-Christian.” “And then you called me ‘wicked’,” Cas accused Lucius gently as he stood up.  
&*&*

Despite his embarrassment at dinner, Cas came to his bedroom at night, freshly washed and in another tunic. Lucius wanted to touch and strip him, but he stood watching him until Cas blew out the light from the lamp he was carrying.

“We should pray now,” he told him seriously. “And tomorrow, I’ll teach you another prayer.”

Lucius bit back a groan. If Christians only practiced celibacy, he’d be a happy man. But they had to be preachy as well, and eager to convert anyone who came in contact with them.

But as he stood next to Cas, lifting his hands to the heavens and repeated Cas’ prayer, he decided that he wouldn’t mind converting if that would bring him in closer contact with Cas.

And maybe he’d had too much to drink as well, because the moment he closed his eyes, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

&*&*

When Cas tried to wake him up in the morning, Lucius pushed him away, rolled over and went back to sleep. And by the time he woke up he was alone in bed. Lucius yawned and crawled out of bed, remembering that he had promised Cas to go back to the Barracks, and feeling not happy about it. But work was work and Cas was right; he should make himself available to Caesar. If only he’d had a contract, or a position. Something  
to tell him what to do, where to be, how to act.

He snorted. If only he had enough money to be really free. Or, if he had had another life, if he had gone to the army as his father had desired, how much easier everything would have been.

He splashed some water to his face, and on his way back from the small latrine, he saw Gaius in the   
courtyard, stretching his arms. His shadow looked that of a giant in the early morning light, spanning all the yard and creeping up the wall, thin and tall and menacing. He grinned. “Good morning, brother. How is your research going?”

Gaius looked at him crossly. “It is a difficult question, Lucius. Do you want me to give you a full answer or not?”

Cas cleared his throat and Lucius almost jumped. By the gods, Cas could be quiet when he wanted. “What are you trying to find out?”

Gaius lifted his shoulders helplessly and waited for Lucius to answer.

“What is natural for men,” Lucius said, making the mistake to turn around and face Cas.

Just washed clean, Cas seemed made out of marble, glowing in the sun; his hair flew in every direction, completely untamed. Water still dripped from some strands, and where it fell on Cas’ skin, it glistened. Even more devastating, water had darkened his lashes, and his eyes shone even more brightly than usual. He wouldn’t be surprised if he saw the shape of wings spreading open behind Cas’ back. Surely this was Venus’ son, and not a mortal.

At that moment the sun appeared again, and Lucius was certain. The god wanted to see Cas, and only for him he shone this morning. He glanced up, not knowing how he would compete with this rival.

“Why?” Cas asked.

If Cas hadn’t been staring at him so insistently, if Cas’ tone hadn’t been so innocent, perhaps he would have replied differently. But something inside him snapped at how simply curious Cas looked. “Because I’m trying to find a good argument against your celibacy,” he answered.

“But that’s easy,” Cas said immediately, before Lucius could feel embarrassed over bringing this up in front of his brother. “You only need to point out that no animal stays celibate, and that they all procreate, albeit in differetnt ways, in accordance to the laws that govern the generation of each species. Exactly as Aristotle  
has demonstrated in his History of Animals and in his treatise On Generation.” His brother huffed in laughter.  
It only made Cas look at Gaius curiously for a change.

“So,” Lucius started, “if celibacy is an unnatural state, as you yourself has just proven...” “Aristotle, not me,” Cas interrupted him.  
“Whatever,” Lucius continued, wondering if kicking Gaius would make him stop snickering, “then why are you so stubbornly celibate?”

“Because we are more than animals.” “Just because we have souls?”  
“Because our souls differ from those of animals in the degree of cognitive and intellectual power. We can understand the world through our senses, and search for our Creator, God, which is something no animal can do.”

Lucius glared at him. “If all Christians were celibate like you, there would be no Christians.” He elbowed  
Gaius. “Will you shut up?”

“It’s not my fault if your erotic adventures, or should I say ‘misadventures’, are so amusing.”

Cas looked at Gaius for a moment and then, embarrassed, turned towards Lucius. “I don’t object to love, or the laws that govern procreation, it is the carnal expression of it and the defilement of the body for the sake of pleasure that I mind.”

“Why?” Gaius asked. “If it is natural and necessary to feel and express desire, why should you deny   
yourself? And, is it my understanding that you accept sex only for the sake of procreation, then?” When Cas nodded, he continued. “But, if god is good and perfect, for no god could be anything but that, why should he prohibit your desire?”

Lucius could have hugged his brother. He turned towards Cas expectantly.

“To let man exercise his free will. He has given us the senses to feel pleasure and the mind to deny it. As we should, since pleasure leads to the abandonment of God’s way, the defilement of the body and the enslavement of the mind.”

“So, god is doing you a favour by making you feel pleasure and then making you deny it? This seems like torture to me, like that of Tantalus, forever reaching for what he can’t have. But if god is good, then he can’t torture you like this, because that would be against his divine nature.” Gaius smiled. “Therefore, your celibacy is stupid and serves no purpose.”

If Cas didn’t look so upset, Lucius would have kissed his brother.

“God does not torture us. He protects us. That is why He made us able to recognize sin, so that we can avoid it.”

“Pleasure is sin, eh?” Gaius said quietly. “But if he was the one to make us feel in the first place, and made us understand pleasure, then why is it a sin? If he wanted to protect us, he could have made us incapable of sensation, or perhaps able to procreate in other ways.”

“I already told you. It is a matter of free will. God is kind, and wants us to be responsible and kind. He made us understand right from wrong, so we can make the right choices.”

“I disagree. It is not free will if he punishes sin. When I make a wrong choice and then suffer the consequences of my actions, it is my own bad luck or stupidity that is to blame. It is not because god made it wrong, or that god punishes me. When god punishes, then we have no choice but to do the thing that brings no punishment. Where is the freedom in that?”

Cas tilted his head, frowning just a little. He looked like a curious bird, and Lucius wished they would finish their discussion, that Cas could be convinced, and Lucius could hug him. “God is good and just. He is our Father, and like a father, he only wants what’s best for us. When there is a choice between right and wrong, what father would choose wrong for his children?”

Lucius snorted.

Cas ignored him. “And, like a good father, he sometimes has to chastise us to make us understand what is good for us.”

“Really? Is that what your father did?”

Cas looked stricken for a moment. Then his expression hardened and Lucius wished he could take his words back. “You will not speak of my Father in this manner again. Or God. He is kind and powerful and benevolent and...” Cas glared at him and suddenly turned around and ran out of the house.

Gaius hit him. “You really don’t know when to keep your mouth shut, do you?” “Shut up.”  
“I’ll go talk to him,” Gais said, shaking his head and obviously thinking him hopeless and useless and everything else that showed lack.

“Don’t you dare.” He pushed Gaius away and went out, following Cas.

Luckily, Cas hadn’t gone far. He found him leaning against Daphne’s counter, shredding a small honey cake to tiny pieces and looking down ominously.

“What did you do to him?” Daphne mouthed, glaring at him.

Lucius shook his head. He slid next to Cas and Daphne handed him a cake without a word. Then she moved   
to the back of the shop. Lucius felt like hugging her. But that would have been a bad idea at the moment. “Cas,” he started, “I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t have brought my father into this .” “I know. I’m sorry. But you...”  
Cas glared at him, and his gaze was so frightening Lucius felt lucky he hadn’t been turned to stone. “He is  
my Father. He gave me life, and brought me up and,” Cas went back to destroying the cake. Such a waste of good food. “I have decided, I will remember his love, and not his hatred. Not because this is my duty, but because I love him.” His fingers stopped moving and then, he pushed the rest of the cake towards him. “I’m sorry.”

He really ought to remember never to mention Cas’ father again, even if the man had a heart made of the hardest stone. “What for?”

“I’m wasting your money,” he whispered, glancing at the cake.

“I’m not poor.” Lucius frowned. Should he push it back, or throw it on the street to make his point? He ought to remember as well to start giving Cas an allowance. Unless he kept forgetting because he liked the idea of Cas being so dependent on him. As if Cas really was his slave, having no rights at all.

Cas made a strange sound. “Not now,” he said. “You have enough money for a year, maybe two if you live modestly. But then?”

“We’ll figure something.” How could he ask if he had a position in Caesar’s household without sounding like a beggar?

“Gaius is very clever.”

He smiled. “He is. He wanted to study law when he was younger.” “That is a good profession, and he’d be excellent at it.”  
“You’re changing the subject,” he muttered. Cas frowned and waited for him to explain.  
Lucius put some money down for Daphne and moved away. Cas followed him. “The subject was that there is no reason for you to stay celibate, except perhaps to annoy me,” he grinned.

Cas’ shoulders sagged. “I can’t. It’s wrong.” “Why?”  
“Because, it’s the...” Cas stopped. “You’ll think it’s superstitious because you don’t understand how our faith works.”

“Cas, I didn’t think that when you told me your dreams. And these were,” he stopped, grimacing, and unable to find the right word. He grinned.

Cas gave him a tiny smile. “Celibacy is a way to God. It is best for those who are not married to stay as they are, so they can attend to the things of the Lord. And it is so that man can become like God’s angels in deeds and spirit and,” Cas stared at him and his smile was brighter, “there is nothing better than that.”

“God’s angels?”

“God is all-powerful and merciful, but as I told you yesterday, none can see his face and live. So, God sends His angels to inform us of His will. They praise and honour and worship Him and they are....” Cas looked up and away, as if trying to find the right words to express the awe he obviously felt for them. “It would be honourable to be like that,” he whispered, and then he blushed a little. “That’s pride talking. Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, as far as I’m concerned. And if god is truly just and merciful, then he will forgive   
your digressions, will he not?”

Cas started walking, trying to avoid Lucius’ gaze. “He will, but why should I falter on my path?”

“Because you love me?” This time, he stopped and held Cas’ arm, making Cas stop and look at him. “I want to love you as you deserve,” he told him softly. “You’re not just a soul, Cas. You have a body too, and I love both. I want to love both, if you’ll let me. And, I know that you love me as I am, and not just as a soul in a wretched vessel.”

Cas looked away for a moment, but that was the best he could do to avoid Lucius. “Even if that’s true, your soul matters most. If you won’t accept my faith, and refuse to be saved, then I will become like one of God’s angels and save you. That is why you must stop pushing me into sinning with you.”

Lucius laughed. “I will stop pushing you only when I’m dead,” he promised. Didn’t Cas realise what he was saying? A strangest, but also truest, declaration of love had never been uttered and he wouldn’t stop until Cas understood how love was expressed without words.

Cas looked at him disappointed. “Your salvation is no laughing matter.”

“If your god is merciful, he will take pity on both of us. And if you are merciful, you will take pity on me while I  
live. All of me.”

“I...” Cas closed his eyes. ‘You are so aggravating,’ his expression and demeanor seemed to say.

Lucius couldn’t help himself. He kissed Cas on the forehead, and pulled back smiling when Cas opened bewildered eyed to look at him. “At least, tell me you’ll think about it,” he whispered.

“Aren’t you ashamed?” Someone shouted at them, and Cas moved back, surprised. “Not even a whore would act like this.”

“In the middle of the street, in the middle of the day, in the middle of the crowd,” another man laughed from behind a counter. “Truly shameless.”

“Jupiter had to send an eagle to grab his Ganymede,” a woman snickered.

“I’m no Jupiter,” Lucius shouted back. “I have to hold my love with my own hands.” “But in the middle of street, boy. There are rooms for that,” the first man laughed.  
“There is no shame in love,” Cas shouted and Lucius was surprised at how steady his voice was, how easily it rose above the noises of the crowd. “There is shame in things that have to be done in rooms, secretly, and between people who are unaware of who they are.”

“Cas?” Lucius laughed a little, feeling uneasy. “They have a point.”

“They have no right to tell you what to do, when you are only driven by your nature.” He glared around him. “They’re just jealous, Lucius. Let’s go.” And he took Lucius by the wrist and guided him towards the Barracks completely unashamed.

“They had a point,” Lucius repeated a while later.

“I know, but there are some things that are sacred. Love is the best gift of our Father. We shouldn’t abuse it, or call it shameful or lock it in rooms.”

“And yet, you won’t let me ‘sin’ with you.”

“Because I love you too much, and I only want what’s best for you.”

Cas looked so convinced and earnest that Lucius dared give him another kiss on the forehead. Only this time, Cas hit him on the arm. Lucius snorted, rubbing his stung flesh. No easy love for him, no common an affair; he had to choose the thorniest rose, but, by Jove, it smelled so sweetly and blossomed just for him. He wouldn’t mind getting a little cut before he plucked it.   
**********

“Look who’s here.” Aniketos greeted him with a loud shout, abandoned his practice sword and ran to hit him on the back. “We missed you.”

“You missed having someone to hit,” he grinned, rubbing his back as much as he could reach. “You wound me.” Aniketos narrowed his eyes. “And who do we have here? Hello.”  
Lucius turned back a little, knowing what he would see. Cas was probably still a little intimidated by gladiators, after all they’d put him through. Yet he still felt a great surge of protectiveness at the way Cas was trying to hide behind him, and how timidly he looked at Aniketos. He pulled Cas closer to him. “You  
remember my friend, Aniketos, don’t you?” “I do. Hello,” Cas replied quietly.  
“Still modest as ever, eh?” Aniketos laughed.  
“Modesty is a luxury for the free,” Cas murmured bitterly, but then he smiled a little. “You look well.” “Thank you.” He punched Lucius on the shoulder. “So, where have you been hiding?” he asked as they  
walked towards the arena. “Here and there.”  
Aniketos glanced back at Cas. “And with good company, am I right?” Lucius grinned. “How’s Fortunata?”  
“You really like to wound me.” Aniketos sighed. “One day she says she loves me, the next she spurns me.” “Women.”  
“Is that why you switched to boys now?” Aniketos whispered. “Are they truly more loyal than women?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Lucius replied, embarrassed. “I only like one boy.” He looked back to see if Cas had noticed, but thankfully he hadn’t. “Do you still visit that witch?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“Not anymore. All these months and no result? You were right; she was a fake.” “I’m always right.”  
Cas behind him snorted. Lucius laughed.  
Symmachos growled. “You’re back already?” He grimaced and shoved Pinnas forward. “Since you’re here, make yourself useful.”

Lucius nodded. “I will. Hello,” he said to Pinnas, who looked frightened and awed at the same time. “I won’t hurt you.” He moved towards a free post. “Let’s start from the basics. Show me what you’ve learned already.”

Every now and then he looked back to see if people were bothering Cas, but no one dared approach him, even when Tydeus and Hector were staring at him insistently. Well, they could stare as much as they wanted as long as they kept their hands to themselves.

Suddenly, he felt someone touch his arm slightly. He turned around and almost hit Cas. “What?”

Cas pointed towards the exit, where a couple of slaves were helping a wounded gladiator towards the hospital. He hadn’t even noticed when the accident happened, his attention divided between Pinnas and Cas. “Can I go with them?”

Lucius shivered. He always liked knowing where Cas was, but he liked it even more when they were in the   
Barracks, or any places where people could accost, attack or try anything with his beloved.

“That’s a good idea,” Symmachos suddenly said next to him. “You have the hands of a physician,” he continued, taking Cas’ hand into his and scrutinizing it.

Cas lowered his head. “Thank you,” he whispered. “What are you waiting for? Go.”  
Cas nodded once and then ran after the small group. Lucius smiled a little. Cas must have practiced running a lot when he was young. Perhaps it had been necessary growing up in that big, big estate right outside of Rome, or that villa up the Caelian. But then again, Cas had had slaves to do all the running for him. Perhaps Cas had learned how to run because he liked it.

He noticed Hector going towards the exit moments after Cas was out of the amphitheatre. He was followed by Tydeus and Victor. Not again.

“Fuck,” Symmachos murmured angrily next to him. “Get back here,” he shouted, and his voice cracked through the air like a whip on a slave’s naked back. Hector and the others stopped and came back like dogs defeated and hiding their tails between their legs. Symmachos glared at them. “Have you forgotten who you belong to?”

“Caesar,” they all shouted like one.

“Good. And as men who belong to Caesar your behaviour must be perfect.” Some laughed at that.  
“I know, I know,” Symmachos himself snorted. He hit his wooden sword against a pole and they all fell silent. “But that fawn,” he said, pointing towards the exit Cas had taken, “belongs to Caesar, and if you dare touch  
it, I’ll cut off your hands and feed them to you.”

Lucius shivered. Pinnas gave him a sympathetic smile and Aniketos put a hand lightly on his shoulder. “Back to your practice, you scoundrels. Daring to steal from the emperor. Rats.”  
Lucius didn’t dare look at Symmachos. He smiled back at Pinnas. “Where were we?”

&*&*

“I don’t understand. He doesn’t even like me,” Lucius said to Aniketos once they were sitting in the tavern. “What happened?” Cas asked him. “You look… restless?”  
Lucius smiled. “Nothing happened. Don’t worry.”

“But let’s just say that no one in the Barracks will bother you again,” Aniketos said, smiling and gesturing for  
Chloe to come and take their order. “That’s good, isn’t it?”  
“You could say that,” Lucius answered Cas.

“I think Symmachos likes you, Cas,” Aniketos said. “Oh. That’s not a good thing, right?”  
Lucius laughed, Cas’ serious and confused expression far too amusing suddenly. “Told you, don’t worry about it. Chloe, your best wine and the usual.”

Chloe smiled at him. “It’s been a while.” She leaned closer than necessary and her breasts brushed his back. “Will you stay until closing time tonight?”   
“See? It’s not just me who’s missed you,” Aniketos said, trying not to laugh. Cas stared at Chloe strangely. Then at Lucius.  
Aniketos elbowed him. “Boys are just as possessive as women,” he whispered. “Shut up.”  
Chloe kissed him lightly. “All the usual?”

“Are you deaf?” Cas suddenly told her, and immediately looking away.

He seemed embarrassed by his outburst, but Lucius didn’t tell him that. He smiled and pushed Chloe away. “Just the food, Chloe.”

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” she winked at him as she moved away. Lucius looked her sashaying between tables for a while. “Women,” he told Cas, shaking his head.

“I’m going home.” Cas stood up before Lucius could say anything and moved quickly out, almost running. “What?”  
Aniketos grabbed Lucius’ wrist. “Let him be. In fact, go home later than usual tonight.” He frowned.  
“Jealousy is a great spice.” His friend smirked. “Fortunata runs away from me like that, but whenever she suspects another has caught my eye, she becomes twice as ardent in her embraces.” He grinned. “I know you’ve had more women than me, or many others, but you’ve never had a girlfriend for more than two nights. Trust me when I tell you, jealousy makes lovers burn hotly. Your pretty friend will be more than glad to have you back when you return, and will make everything he can to prove himself better than Chloe or any other girl.”

Lucius smiled, and wondered if Aniketos would prove right.

&*&*

He didn’t.

And in the morning, Cas dragged him out of bed and made him pray, repeating each word and phrase relentlessly until Lucius could recite ‘the Lord’s prayer’ on his own.

That whole ‘forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us?’ Cas didn’t know the meaning of it.

Still, they went together to the Barracks and when Cas kissed him softly on the cheek before going to the Hospital, Lucius knew things were alright between them again. And when they returned home, Cas insisted on washing Lucius with his own hands, and Lucius knew without a doubt that Cas loved him well. Even if Cas pretended not to notice how aroused he became under Cas’ ministrations and avoided giving him the release he craved. He’d already accepted that Cruelty walked hand in hand with Love, but the day that Cas’ stubborn denial would change in sweet submission wasn’t far. He felt it.

&*&*

Two days after he’d started training as a physician, Cas decided that he would also become a gardener. Lucius woke up that morning to the sound of laughter and noise to discover Cas kneeling in the middle of the courtyard, with a basket full of bulbs and small plants and a book open in front of him and held down with rocks. Hermione was the one laughing the most, but she too was trying to dig in holes for the plants together with Phoenix, who called them both idiots and useless. “No one ever learned how to grow plants from books, no matter what writers claim.”

“You’ll see I’m right when these grow,” Cas insisted.   
Lucius yawned. “What are you doing?”

“Planting garlic. And onions and basil and thyme. Parsnip too. Daphne suggested that, she said it grows surprisingly well in the city.”

“It needs space,” Phoenix countered. “We could grow other things in the garden instead of these forsaken plants.”

“Pliny says…”

Lucius rubbed his eyes and went to clean himself. “If you’re not done by the time I’m finished washing, you’ll go to the Hospital on your own. Pinnas will fight Hector today, and I have to be there early to prepare him.”

“I don’t have to be there that early,” Cas told him, “and this is important. You’ll see.”

“Why? We can buy garlic and onion and whatever we need anytime we need it. And shouldn’t the garden be at the back of the house?” Gaius asked, trying not to grin too much.

“There’s no garden at the back,” Cas told him seriously. Hermione nodded.  
“It’s always better to grow your own plants. That’s what we did,” Cas continued. “You come from a family of gardeners?” She asked curiously.  
Even though Lucius half-agreed with Phoenix that learning gardening through books was not possible, the way Hermione’s question made first Cas stare at her and then laugh was worth leaving him alone to finish whatever he thought he was doing.

&*&*

And even though he still felt that the day that Cas would give in to him was not far, the day seemed never to come. Cas was crueller than Phalaris, the infamous tyrant of Acragas. But where the tyrant had used a brazen bull to burn his victims, Cas had no need for such artefacts. His tender embraces in the morning after they prayed together kindled the flames that burned him, his sweet kisses as they parted in front of the Barracks scorched his flesh more than heated metal, and when they lay in bed together at the end of the  
day, Lucius felt he would die from the fire that coursed through him.

Each day was torturous, and each night was worse. Lucius used to think that lovers that cried at the doorstep of their beloved, or in the darkness of their bedrooms were just a fiction. Something poets had imagined and written about to add some colour in their verses. Everyone knew; only women cried. But ten nights of lying right next to Cas, while Cas lay still and probably praying, were enough to drive him to tears.

He’d thought he wanted to touch before, and he had, but being so close to his beloved, knowing that Cas returned his love and yet, denied them the fulfilment of their love, was more frustrating than anything.

Lucius bit back a sob. All his words were in vain. All his love was useless. Cas was cruel and heartless, implacable in his convictions and pitiless in his behaviour. He turned around and let his tears fall. Quietly, like a man, not bothering to wipe them, not daring to move. He had Cas’ love; why did he want more? What had happened to the man who swore that he only wanted to see Cas smile? How had his desire grown so much, that smiles no longer satisfied him? Nor light, brief touches, nor tiny, chaste kisses. He had all that; why did he want more?

Ovid had written that Cupid tortured more the ones that denied him, but he had declared himself his willing victim weeks ago, stretching his conquered arms to beg for the god’s justice. But Cupid showed him no mercy, and sweet Persuasion wasn’t by his side. Like Tantalus he was tormented by the things he could not touch, skin softer than the peaches that tormented the punished king, mouth sweeter than the water that receded before Tantalus could slake his thirst.

He had to school his thought and train his body, learn how to be happy with what Cas gave him, and seek more pleasure elsewhere. If that pleasure could prove as satisfying as Cas’ tiny gestures. A touch was burning, a kiss was scorching, and no one else would ever be as sweet or gentle. But he had to try.   
He heard a rustle, and then Cas suddenly touched him softly on the shoulder. Lucius sniffled, grimacing afterwards that he let himself be caught crying. “What?” he asked gruffly.

“I’m not as cruel as you think I am,” Cas whispered, and his voice sounded as wrecked as Lucius’. Like he  
too had been crying, or something like that. He slowly turned Lucius towards him, and Lucius closed his eyes when his legs brushed Cas’. “Father Philip would say this is wrong, and I think it’s wrong,” Cas murmured, mouth almost writing the words on Lucius’ shoulder, “but I can’t see you suffering anymore.”

“It’s my problem,” he said, trying to be as calm as a Stoic and as disinterested as a Cynic. “You made your views clear. No sinning between us,” he mocked.

“I know, but...” Cas let out a soft, strangled moan. “How can I say I love you, when I let you suffer? The Apostle said it rightly. Those who cannot be continent should get married. For it is better to get married than burn in hell.”

“I don’t want to get married.”

“I know, but....” Cas sighed as if in the greatest agony. “What happens in the bedroom, on a bed, between a man and a woman who are committed to each other is what happens in a marriage. And we’ve been sharing a bed, but you’re not made for chastity. Your nature is too hot, your spirit too masculine. And...”

“I want you, not a wife,” he said quickly when he sensed Cas’ discomfort. “I’ll make myself less...”

Cas put his hand on Lucius’ mouth. “I want you to be as you are. May God have mercy on me, but I cannot let you suffer, and I’m too weak to let you go.”

Lucius shuddered. He nodded slightly, too scared Cas would fly away from him if he made any sudden moves.

“The Greeks,” Cas started again, and his voice was even lower, “have a way of making love that....” Cas stopped, took a deep breath. “The devout congress of thighs. Would that be acceptable?” Cas moved closer. Flesh on flesh. Lucius gasped, and felt how he was shivering, but how he was also half-hard, his manhood threatening to burn Lucius to cinders where they touched. “I ask that you not enter me, but this perhaps is...” Cas nestled in Lucius’ arms for a moment. “I can’t see you in pain any longer, but if there are degrees in sin, perhaps this is a lesser one.” Cas kissed him on the hollow of his throat, a sweet, warm press of lips that ended too soon, and then moved away.

Lucius’ voice caught in his throat. His words of protest died before the prison of his teeth when he realised that Cas moved so he could lie on his stomach, waiting. He sat up and put his hand on the small of Cas’ back. Cas was still shivering; a pure and perfect lamb willingly sacrificing itself in the altar of Lucius’ love.

He lowered his body and laid his head on Cas’ shoulder. “May all the gods forgive me, but I can’t refuse you. I wish I could tell you that you don’t have to do this. I wish I could say not to worry, and that I love you like a brother does another. But I can’t.” He kissed Cas’ nape. “Forgive me. I will defile the temple of your body.”

Cas shuddered. “May God forgive me too, because I can’t deny you.”

He’d felt Cas’ desire. He knew it was true. And so he let Cas hide behind pity and virtue, and didn’t call him a hypocrite or a liar. “You’re being meek and charitable,” he said instead as he kissed the first hard bones of Cas’ spine.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll dedicate your body to Love, and make a new temple of it. If this is a sin,” he said, kissing Cas’ shoulder, soft skin covering hard bone rising like the broken remnant of wings, “then I’ll take it in me, kiss by kiss. And I will wash you clean.”

Cas whimpered. “Wash me from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin." Lucius kissed him again.  
“In the hidden part you shall make me know wisdom. I am blaspheming,” Cas moaned.   
“It’s beautiful. Teach it to me? Later?” Another kiss and Cas tried not to arch against him. Lucius couldn’t stop raining small kisses on Cas’ skin, tiny and delicate. He tried to follow the hard line of his spine, but kept getting distracted by the smooth expanse of Cas’ back. Cas’ flanks were made for Lucius’ hands, muscles perfectly formed to fit in the hollows and rises of his palms.

He straddled Cas. His dick wanted to bury itself as deeply into Cas as possible, the part hidden between his perfect buttocks tempting and inviting at the same time. But he would not be greedy anymore; not when he’d been granted permission to have everything else, more than what Cas had been offering, or promising until that moment. He couldn’t help sliding his manhood over the hiding crevasse, wondering how it would feel to part these tender mounds. But Cas twisted slightly and then fell back down, biting back a sound of resistance. His perfect sacrificial lamb. He wouldn’t butcher it.

He slid his hands carefully underneath Cas, and instinct, or Love, guided them unerringly to Cas’ chest. His experience had taught him that a man’s chest was nothing like a woman’s, flat and hard and insensitive, but Cas again surprised him. He moaned when Lucius palmed his breasts, and thrust slightly upwards, buttocks rubbing deliciously Lucius’ dick. A moment later he tried to make himself still, but then Lucius discovered Cas’ nipples, and as they hardened within the tender grasp of his fingers, Cas moved sinuously beneath him, groaning.

“What? What are you doing to me?”

Lucius kissed his shoulder again. This time he used his teeth, dragging them slightly over heated flesh. “I’m trying to make you feel pleasure,” he replied, surprised at how restrained he sounded, when all he wanted was to mark and grab and thrust inside Cas forever.

“What?” Cas managed to gasp, his whole body responding to the sudden brush of fingernails against his pebbled nipples.

“The ways of Venus are seductive for a reason, Cas,” he smiled, leaning down to kiss Cas on the cheek. “I promise you, you’ll feel no pain.” He kissed him again, on the nape, and nuzzled him. By the gods, he didn’t need to penetrate Cas. His body was sweet as it was, his sweat deliciously clean and slightly salty, like an expensive delicacy. And it was all his. His. How many kisses would satisfy Catullus, Lesbia had asked. A hundred? A thousand? As many as the grains of sand on Libya’s coast, or the stars upon the sky, the poet had replied, and Lucius knew what he’d meant for the first time. That many kisses would satisfy his thirst for Cas’ lips, that many kisses he wanted to give to him. That many, and more, until he’d memorised Cas’ body with his mouth, and learned all its secrets.

Cas turned his head away from him suddenly. “You’re still kissing me. I thought sex was like in the pictures, or....”

Lucius smiled. “The artists choose to show the moment of joining, because that excites people who look the most. But when your beloved is with you, you want to do more.”

“But you’re not trying to...”

He laughed, not knowing if Cas was complaining or wishing this was over. “I love you too much to hurry.” His right hand slid down Cas’ stomach, and he felt Cas’ sharp, indrawn breath with his whole body. “Trust me?”

“I do,” Cas whispered and then whimpered when Lucius’ fingers grazed his manhood. “Don’t.” “Why?”  
“I...”

“You want this as much as I do. I know the shape of a...”  
“It’s my punishment for letting you do as you wish. Don’t try to make this easier for me.” Cas cut him off. Lucius snorted. “It’s nature, not punishment.” If Cas wanted to stop him, he wouldn’t lay down with his hands  
uselessly away from Lucius, offering no resistence. This time, he circled the head of Cas’ manhood with his thumb, spreading the fine moisture around. For the first time in his life, he was curious about another man’s emissions. He wanted to smell Cas’ essence, and taste it, feel it with more than hands.   
“Oh,” Cas moaned, bucking beneath Lucius like a startled horse.

Lucius’ dick slid along Cas’ buttocks again, and Lucius knew he wouldn’t last. He spit on his fingers and greased slightly his burning manhood. It slid in the sweet trap of Cas’ thighs with agonizing slowness, friction and heat driving him forward.

Cas shuddered and Lucius stroked him, learning the shape of his manhood with his fingers, the heat of his flesh with his palm, the strength and length and weight of him. Was something of Cas’ that was not made for him? Everything fit perfectly, including his most private parts. If anyone had told him that this Greek way of loving was more satisfying than proper fucking, he would never have believed them. Yet, holding Cas’ burning member, and sliding between his strong, straining thighs was better than fucking Eros, better than lying with an experienced whore or making sweet and tender love to a young maiden.

Cas suddenly rose and heaved upwards, his whole body trembling. He reached frantically for Lucius’ hand, the one that hadn’t stopped fondling his nipple, and grabbed it painfully as he released his essence. Lucius moved with him, plastering his body against Cas’ like he would do riding an untrained stallion, following his movement and not letting go at the same time, and drowning his startled gasp of pleasure with his mouth.

Cas’ sweet moans, the slippery wetness of his surprised tongue, his long body completely pliant and still fervently warm beneath Lucius’, his hand that wouldn’t let go, all contributed to bringing Lucius pleasure. Pleasure that was more intense and sweet than anything he’d ever felt before. For a moment, he thought he saw stars. For another that he saw nothing, that he was gone and lost to the world. But then he felt Cas, and he collapsed on him, certain that Cas would hold him.

He nestled lazily against his beloved, and licked the sweat off his skin as he tried to regain his breath and his composure. Cas felt like he was slowly calming down, and Lucius hugged him as he slid off him. He couldn’t let him go. And Cas, face still turned away from his, couldn’t stop holding his hand.

Lucius fell asleep hoping Cas wouldn’t regret this. Because he couldn’t wait to do this again. Preferably not in the dark.

**********

Lucius woke up feeling more rested than ever, but Cas wasn’t lying next to him. He reached around and opened bleary eyes to see Cas sitting up, and looking down. He blinked and rubbed his eyes until he could see clearly. Cas was touching his thighs carefully, with just the tip of his finger, almost scratching. “Sticky,” he whispered when Lucius frowned.

He nodded. “Of course,” he managed to say. “Come here.”

When Cas stayed still, he sat up and pushed him down. Was Cas as sleepy as he was and that was why he didn’t resist him? Or he wanted Lucius to move him here and there, like a toy? When he tried to kiss him, Cas turned his face away from him. Not again. “I thought…” he started.

“Weren’t you satisfied?” Cas asked him as he spoke, glancing at him sideways. Lucius shook his head.  
“Why?”

He looked up, frustrated. It was too early for this kind of discussion. “Because,” he said, gazing down again, at Cas naked and stretched before him, delicious and debauched and innocent all at once. “How can you even ask me that?”

“Wasn’t last night enough?” “Was it for you?”  
Even though Cas still looked away from him, he made the tiniest motion towards him. Like his body responded to Lucius’ words. And indeed, it was responding to his words, or his voice, or maybe his desire, because the more Cas turned his face from him, the more his body shivered, and his manhood hardened and twitched, almost aware of Lucius’ gaze, heedless of Cas’ embarrassment.   
“It wasn’t,” Lucius murmured as he put his hand on Cas’ stomach. Fingers splayed, he pressed down when  
Cas breathed in.

Cas shuddered. “Please,” he said, placing his hand softly over Lucius’. “Please,” he said again, and his grip tightened. This time he looked at him, begging with his eyes as well as his voice.

“This is a small sin,” Lucius gasped, and moved towards Cas. Cas, who stared at him pleadingly, with lips  
still parted, asking to be kissed, and who could pull away from him or resist him? Lucius covered him with his body. “No more than what we did last night,” he promised.

“I wish you’d stop,” Cas told him, but when Lucius lowered his hips, slowly grinding his dick against Cas’, Cas surged up and embraced him. “Lucius,” he moaned. “I hate this.”

“I know,” Lucius said and caught the next soft whimper with his lips. His tongue slipped easily in Cas’ gasping mouth. It took some effort to coax it into sliding against his, slick and timid at first, but then it grew slowly bolder and more playful. Just like Cas. And the more Lucius kissed him, the more he slid and slipped and rocked himself within the cradle of Cas’ thighs, the more Cas responded, and trailed his hands everywhere  
he could reach, without purpose or aim, and thrust up, seeking friction and heat and the sweetness that came from hands and thighs and mouths and cocks. Wanting everything and Lucius was glad to please him.

And when everything was over, and Lucius wanted to go back to sleep, Cas grabbed his tunic from the floor and fled out of the room. Lucius smirked. He’d be back.

&*&*

He decided to leave Cas alone for the day, but only for the day. When he came back, he saw a sliver of light coming from beneath the door of Cas’ study room. He opened the door and found Cas hunched over a roll. Probably something pious and Christian. He smiled. “Follow me,” he told Cas.

 

Cas looked at him strangely for a moment, but followed him the next.

When he walked into his room, he pushed Cas against the wall. Cas almost dropped the lamp, and Lucius grabbed it from him. “I want to see you,” he said roughly as he put it carefully on the floor.

Cas whimpered. “Don’t,” he said, and, “Not again.”

Lucius growled. “Again.” He pressed his whole body against Cas, and while Cas turned his face away, his body was pinned beneath Lucius’, shuddering and warm. “Again. Forever.”

“It’s wrong,” Cas whispered.

Lucius pulled away. Before Cas could sigh in relief, eyes already huge with emotion, he turned him around, face pressed against the wall, and trapped him there. He lifted Cas’ tunic up and fumbled with his stupid, soft loincloth until he untied it. And Cas wanted it, trembling and gasping, or else why wasn’t he resisting him? “You said,” Lucius told him and nipped the skin where neck met shoulder, “those who are not married, can tend to God’s things. Why?”

“Because,” Cas answered, breath hitching and catching in his throat, “marriage is a burden. People think about their children and worry about them instead of…”

Lucius slid his manhood between Cas’ thighs and Cas’ voice broke completely, words replaced by a deep, long moan. “We’ll have no children. You can tend to your god without any such worries.”

Cas pushed himself a little off the wall, and then fell back into place. “But this is an itch that is distracting me, oh, so, oh…” He was rocking himself, and Lucius didn’t even have to thrust forward anymore, Cas doing everything for him.

“But when this itch is scratched, you can relax, can’t you?” He reached with one hand for Cas’ manhood, and for his hand with the other. Cas’ grip was tight and demanding, and his manhood was pulsing, red-hot iron in Lucius’ fist. “Let me, let me, let me.”   
“What?”

Lucius nuzzled Cas. “Anything. Everything. Kiss me.”

The frustration and resignation that tinted Cas’ moans whenever their lips met, Lucius could understand. One day, he’d turned them all into sighs of need. Until then, he would repeat his lessons to Cas and continue showing him how sweet it was to lie with another.

&*&*

“If we are to keep doing this,” Cas told him next morning, voice shaky and gaze unable to meet his for long, and yet unable to keep away, “you have to promise me something.”

“What?”

“You’ll study the Scriptures together with me.”

So Cas had noticed that he hadn’t read anything in days? He smiled. “If you want.” He’d do anything together with Cas.

Cas smiled back, and let Lucius trap him with his body. He didn’t even protest much when Lucius kissed him deeply. All it took was a small promise and some weeks of relentlessly hunting down his prey. But now it was his, well and truly caught and Lucius revelled in the warmth of his body, the taste of his skin, the feel of his flesh, and everything that was Cas and was now his. All his.

And what if afterwards Cas wanted to stay behind and not go with him to the Barracks that morning? Lucius could understand that. Even though he suspected that Cas would probably spend the day reading something offensive and insulting against man’s nature, then so be it. Cas would still be his in the evening.

&*&*

As he’d expected, he found Cas reading when he came back. He sat down, noticing the untouched plate of food, and was tempted to hand-feed Cas. He would have done it, but Cas looked at him so miserably that Lucius stayed still. Too many years of reading, and seeing and hearing about virginal fear and timidity had  
left their mark. Virgins always looked desirable when they were scared of a man’s touch. Their fear was to be conquered, their timidity overcome, and that Cas still acted like a virgin, even after what they’d done, made Lucius want to grab him and make him surrender his body once again. “Do you really hate it so much?” he asked instead, balling his hands in fists until the fingernails bit deeply into his flesh.

“It’s wrong,” Cas whispered.

“But you want it,” Lucius pointed out, tired of Cas hiding behind morals or self-pity.

“Doesn’t make it right.” Cas took a deep breath and turned resolutely away from Lucius. Not that it mattered;  
he still looked like he was about to cry.

“What’s your favourite Jesus story?” Lucius asked suddenly, changing the subject. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t tell Cas that just because he looked all teary-eyed and sad he would stop kissing and holding and making love to him. Celibacy was stupid and unnatural; he wouldn’t let Cas’ sacrifice his youth and beauty and the physical expressions of his love because of what a strange, mysterious god commanded. That was a crime against every natural law, against the world itself.

Cas blinked.

“You said you wanted me to study with you, but before we do that, tell me what’s your favourite story.” “They’re not stories,” Cas reprimanded him. “They’re the truth.”  
“Really? In that book you gave me, there was nothing but people possessed by demons. Now, I won’t deny that Judea is a place full of superstitious and fanatic people, but in all my years there I never met one possessed person. Although, there was this woman that kept screaming and throwing rocks at us, but it might have been because we were Romans,” Lucius finished with a lie, realising that telling Cas that he and his friends liked to call her ‘old witch’ was probably not a good idea.   
“For some reason, I think she might have done it because you were insufferable as a child.” “Me?” Lucius hoped he didn’t look too surprised, or embarrassed. “I was perfect.”  
Cas stared at him.

“So what if I did call her ‘witch’ a couple of times? She should have known better than to throw rocks at children.”

“You called her names.”

“If you’d seen her, you’d call her names too. She was like this.” He bent down, moving as if he had a hunchback and a limp, and grimacing. “Ugly and deformed in body and spirit,” he said when he stopped in front of Cas.  
Cas frowned dismayed. “You…” he started and then pushed him slightly away when Lucius refused to move. Lucius stood up straight and poked Cas in the forehead. “You must stop judging people, Cas. We can’t all  
live by your impossible standards. I was a child and children know not what they’re doing most of the time.” He could tell Cas stories from when his brother was growing up that … well, Gaius was actually a good child, except when he wanted something, but it was still true. Children were not like adults, and they couldn’t be judged like them. “Cas? What’s wrong?” he asked when he realised that Cas wouldn’t answer him.

“I’m not living by my standards either,” Cas whispered, even more miserable than when Lucius first came into the room.

“Because your standards were not made by humans, or for humans. They were made for angels, you stupid…” He pursed his lips for a moment, angry at himself for his outburst. Even if Cas was being stupid, he didn’t deserve being called that. “Do angels have flesh?”

Cas shook his head.

“Then, how can a being of flesh compare with one without, and of divine origin? Even if you renounce the flesh and its pleasures, you still won’t be able to get rid of it. Only death can do that.”

“But we must try to be pure for God, or…”

Cas gasped brokenly, staring at him imploringly and Lucius couldn’t move away. He tasted Cas’ next sigh with his lips, and silenced his gasps with his tongue. A few moments later Cas embraced him awkwardly and Lucius pushed him down on the couch, trying not to grin at the thought he suddenly had. What if Cas always behaved like this? Not wanting it at first, denying his attraction, being so seemingly afraid of love’s sweet, tempting pleasures? It would be like seducing a virgin, having to gentle and soothe and coax him every time, proving himself more persistent than Peleus, more masterful than Heracles, more seductive than Apollo. And every kiss would be like their first, every caress new, every touch frightening and overwhelming like he’d never touched before.

By Venus and Cupid and by Jupiter, there hadn’t been a luckier man than him. He drew the initial of his name with the tip of his tongue on Cas’ soft, white neck, and then encircled it with teeth. A brand suitable for him who owned him, a mark appropriate for lovers. A perfect sign of ownership. “My poor, little lamb,” he whispered, responding to Cas’ sorrowful stare, his broken gasps, his trembling. “You must think me a wolf, come to led you astray.” He gentled Cas with insistent, continuous caresses, up his arms and over his shoulders, and fanned his desire to burning flames with slow, rolling thrusts of his hips. “But I am a shepherd. All I want is to bring you close to me, and keep you safe.”

And when Cas gasped, surprised, almost horrified, at his words, he went back to kissing him. His dear, sweet lamb. His dove, his fawn, his everything.

&*&*

“I yield to you because of love,” Cas told him afterwards, relaxed within the circle of his arms, calm beneath the cradle of his hips and thighs, and drawing senseless patterns on his back. “But this is still wrong.”   
“Wrong is…” Lucius nuzzled him, tempted to leave more bite marks and holding back, “Wrong is having to leave you every morning when all I want is to be with you. Wrong is that I spend my hours teaching men how to kill and die, when all I want is to teach you how to live. That’s wrong. Not this.” He trailed his hand softly over Cas’ chest, and let it rest over his heart.

“But I too want to teach you how to live.” He smiled. “We’ll teach other.”  
Cas nodded, and his hair teased him like the softest caress.

“Do you ever miss me when I’m not with you?” He asked, and then felt embarrassed for it. But then again, Cas knew how much he wanted him. Perhaps he wouldn’t think him weaker for asking that.

Cas pressed himself tightly against Lucius. “How cruel you must think me, or maybe made of stone.”

“You show me such little affection when you see me. Lovers fall in their lovers’ arms, hold their necks and shower them with kisses. Yet, you show no such signs, and your fragrant kisses you give grudgingly.”

“We should exchange no such kisses, that is why. If anyone for this reason kisses twice, because it was pleasurable to him, one commits sin. Because, if it clouds our judgement even a little, then it excludes us from eternal life.”

Lucius sighed. “You deny me even a greeting kiss.” “Would you be satisfied with just that?”  
Lucius snorted, and then bit his lips. “I thought so.”  
“How could I be satisfied with just one kiss? I love you.”

Cas’ hands stilled and then he moved so close, it was as if he was trying to make himself one with Lucius. “What have you done to me?”

Lucius tried to kiss him, but at that moment the door opened, Gaius’ face illuminated by a lamp. Gaius’ expression was one of surprise and amazement, swiftly turning into mirth. “I came looking for a book, but I found a picture,” he laughed.

“Will you leave us alone?”

Cas was trying to hide beneath Lucius, while scrambling around for their discarded clothes. “Maybe not.” His brother had the most annoying grin on his face.  
“Gaius, get out. Now.”

“Just to preserve your modesty? I don’t think so.” “Gaius. I won’t say it again.”  
His brother grabbed the first book he could reach, and closed the door behind him laughing. “He’s so annoying.”  
Cas nodded seriously. “So, where were we?”  
“Studying the Scriptures together.”

Lucius let his head drop. “You know what? It’s late. How about we go to bed and leave the Scriptures for   
tomorrow?”

Cas huffed. “And then you say you want to learn from me. You just want to sin again, don’t you?” “If love is sin, then I want to sin forever.”  
Cas pushed him off him. “I still think you’re insufferable. And did you accuse me of being like Martial’s  
Diadumenos?”

“Guilty again.” He wrapped his mantle around his body as he gathered the rest of his clothes. “Giving you my kisses grudgingly,” Cas muttered behind him.  
“You deny it?”

“I give them, though, while I shouldn’t.”

Lucius laughed and guided him out of the room. But he had to agree with Cas; he still gave his kisses, and when he stopped protesting, they were the sweetest kisses in the world.

&*&*

Despite his protests, the next day Cas kissed him when he saw him come out of the Barracks. A small, chaste greeting of a kiss, but it was enough. And since Aniketos pretended he hadn’t noticed, Lucius invited him over for dinner to thank him. But not just for that; he hoped that the presence of his friend would stop Cas from preaching to him.

Unfortunately for him, the moment Aniketos was away, Cas ran out of the room. Lucius glanced at Gaius. “Save me.”

“I thought you wanted to convert.” “What?”  
Gaius started laughing. “Your face. Oh, your face.” “What’s so funny?” Cas asked them from the entrance. “Obnoxious little brothers,” Lucius muttered.  
Gaius and Cas shared a look. “I should be going,” Gaius told them.

Lucius glared at his brother. ‘You can’t leave me alone,’ he begged his brother with his eyes.

Gaius smirked. ‘You wish,’ he seemed to say. “I should leave you two alone. I’m certain you have much to…  
discuss.”

Cas blushed suddenly and deeply. Nevertheless, he sat next to Lucius. “You can stay, if you want.” “I’d rather not.” He shook his head. “Seeing you two once was enough.”  
Cas couldn’t look at Gaius any longer. He ducked his head and started unrolling his book.

Gaius sighed. “The things I do for you,” he muttered as he sat on the second couch on the other side of  
Lucius. He made himself comfortable, dipping a piece of flatbread into honey. “Maybe I should call Hermione and Phoenix,” Cas suggested.  
“What makes you think they’d be interested in what you have to say?” Cas frowned at Lucius, like he’d just asked him something stupid. “Leave them be,” Gaius said.   
“Why?”

“We already are too lenient with our slaves, Lucius.”

“I’m a slave too,” Cas said quietly before Lucius could express his disapproval with more than a frown. “I  
haven’t forgotten that.”

“You’re not. You’ll go back to your father, sooner or later, and then…” Gaius shrugged. “Would you teach your father’s slaves the way you want to teach ours?”

“Julia did.” “Did you?”  
“They are my Father’s, not mine.”

Gaius smirked again. “See? If you wouldn’t interfere with your father’s property, why would you do this here?” “Because here I am like them.”  
Lucius glared at Cas.

“You are a slave to Lucius only,” Gaius said sternly, as if explaining to a child. “When you are freed, you will have all the right of a free man, everything restored to you. If they are released from their service, they will be freedman and freedwoman, not free.”

“Words shouldn’t carry such distinctions,” Lucius said, closing his eyes for a moment. “We’re all human beings. Gaius, why do you insist on dividing us in free and slaves?”

“Because I won’t be treated like a slave ever again, Lucius. Have you forgotten how it was? Or do you miss it? I may humour your lover’s wish to play at being a slave when he wants it, but don’t ask me to…”

Lucius stood up, ready to hit his brother. Gaius stood up, ready to defend himself. “You shouldn’t fight. You’re brothers.”  
Gaius glanced at Cas. “I know, but brothers sometimes argue. Especially when one brother is pigheaded and stupid.”

“Speak for yourself.” Lucius raised his hand. “Please, stop.”  
“These divisions were there because they are natural. Some were born slaves, and some free, and some were made so by fortune.”

Cas frowned. “I used to think that too, but now I’m not so certain. If we all serve the same Master, and in His eyes we’re equal, then why should we be different in this world? The Apostle says so, but not our Lord.” Cas looked at Lucius. “And yet, in his letter to Philemon, he asked for the freedom of Onesimos because Onesimos was useful to him.”

“Clearly, it is the same with all. A good slave is rewarded, a bad punished.” Gaius smirked. “A world without slaves? Impossible.”

“There must be ways to replace them,” Cas murmured.

“And you want to start from here? Would you eat with the slaves in your father’s house? When you go back, will you do that? Will you work the land with them, or plant your gardens yourself?”

“If I go back.” Cas looked at Gaius strangely, like he and Gaius shared a secret. Gaius growled. “You are as stubborn as my brother. You deserve each other.”   
“And you are as stubborn as your brother. Gaius, if you had sheep, you would be able to count them. You have three slaves, one of which is only ‘playing’ the part, as you said,” Cas told him angrily. “You treat your slaves like that, when you can look at them and know them, and they will hate you. Can you afford that?”

“I should never have shown you the household accounts.”

“You wouldn’t have needed to, if you had taken care of that yourself,” Lucius told him. “You think I haven’t noticed that you don’t care about our expenses?”

“If you had noticed that, then why didn’t you do something before now?”

“Because you’re my brother, Gaius, not my manager. I was hoping you’d start behaving in a more responsible manner on your own.”

Cas looked at them both. “Will you stop arguing? Is this how you show affection?” Gaius and Lucius stared at each other. “It is,” they both said.  
“I don’t understand you at all. Sit down.”

Gaius raised an eyebrow. Lucius smirked. “Is this necessary?” “Sit down,” Cas said in a low, deep voice.  
Lucius felt a ridiculously large surge of pride. His Cas was so unafraid of him, he was giving him commands. Oh, he couldn’t wait to take him to bed that night and make him growl deep and low, and see if he could get Cas to order him for the sake of pleasure. He sat down and waited.

Gaius followed his example. “What now?”

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and God was the Word. He was in the beginning with God. Everything happened because of Him, and without Him was made nothing of what was made. In Him was life, and life was the light of men. And the light shone in the darkness, and the darkness did not understand it.  
“The things I do for you,” Gaius muttered again. Then he frowned. “So God and Word are not the same?” “The Word is our Lord the Saviour. He was with God from the start, uncreated, eternal, invisible,  
incomprehensible, and of the same essence as God, because, if God is the beginning and end, the supreme force creating and guiding the universe, the Word is the manifestation of His will and Power, and they are One Being.”

“So, if the Word is with God, why does the passage start with the Word at the beginning and not with God? Surely God is more powerful than the manifestation of his will.”

“It is through the Son that we reach salvation and life. Therefore it is right to start with the Word first, to know and feel secure in the joy He brings us.”

Lucius put his feet up on the couch and settled a couple pillows beneath his arm. “Don’t look at me,” he said. “If you expect clever questions, look at Gaius.”

Cas looked at him disappointed.

“I’m the handsome one,” he grinned. “I’m satisfied with that. But it sounds pretty, whatever you said.” “Too bad you can’t use that to seduce someone,” Cas whispered, mocking him slightly.  
“I seduced you, I don’t need to seduce anyone else again,” he replied confidently, and smiled when Ca smiled shyly at him.

Gaius rolled his eyes upwards and made a gagging motion next to him. The moment Cas looked at him, he straightened up. “What does it mean, ‘the light shone in the darkness, but the darkness didn’t comprehend   
it? Unless katelaven there means not ‘perceived’, but ‘held’? That the light was so powerful that darkness could not contain it, or diminish it, or snuff it out?”

“Ah, but it is made clear later on that it is perception that is meant. Listen.”

Lucius picked up his cup and dipped his finger inside, drawing Cas’ name with the last of the wine. Cas, Cassianus, Cas. He could hear him talk for hours, even if he didn’t care about what he said. That low, steady voice that wrapped Lucius’ mind and heart with unbreakable chains of dreadful tenderness.

Should he try to make Cas command or obey him tonight? It would all lead to pleasure, that much he knew, but how would it be to have Cas respond to his touches not as a fearful, timid virgin, but as an eager, demanding even, equal partner? The thought of Cas pushing him down with steady hands, directing him with that low, masterful and almost threatening tone that tolerated no argument, was too much. He poured some wine and spilled it accidentally on himself, in an attempt to calm his suddenly throbbing dick. “Erm…”

Gaius studied him knowingly, but Cas didn’t realise anything was wrong. He put down his scroll and looked at Lucius innocently. “Do you need help?”

“I’ll manage. I’ll be right back,” he shouted as he hurried out of the room. Behind him, he could hear Gaius laughing. One day, his little brother would fall in love again, and then Lucius would be the one to laugh at him. He only had to wait for that day.

**********

The following day was Sunday, or the Lord’s Day, as Cas insisted on calling it, which meant he not only had to pray in the morning, he also had to follow Cas to the liturgy. It was most annoying; if one was to abandon work for a day, then one should do something pleasant or relaxing, not go and spend hours singing hymns and listening to readings. If it was up to Lucius, he’d spend the day in bed. With Cas. The weather was getting colder, and there were ways to keep each other warm that were much better than walking all the way to the Caelian.

To make matters worse, Father Philip glared at him from the moment he walked into Julia’s house. “I think he has a problem with me,” he told Cas.

Cas looked away for a second. “I think you’re right.” “Cas? What did you tell him?”  
“The truth.” “What truth?”  
Cas stared at him as if that was yet another stupid question. “About us.” “And you’re not…” Lucius grimaced, unsure of what he should say.  
“Julius Cassianus,” Father Philip growled suddenly. “Stop touching that man.” Cas took his hand away as swiftly as if he’d been burned.  
Lucius smiled, even though Father Philip narrowed his eyes as if ready to smite him. Cas had touched him without realising it again. “You got a problem with that?” He challenged the priest.

“Lucius,” Cas whispered, pleading with him.

“What? If you already told him the truth, then he knows we’re lovers.” Cas stared at him mortified, growing steadily paler.  
Julia gasped behind him, and when Lucius glanced back he saw that her husband was supporting her. Her veil covered her face, and she could have fainted, for all Lucius knew.

Father Philip grabbed Cas by the wrist. “He is more shameless than you told me,” he hissed, pulling Cas   
towards him.

“I haven’t been shameless at all,” Lucius shouted and, grabbing Cas’ other wrist, pulled him towards him. “I’ve been almost as chaste as Socrates.”

“Almost?” Father Philip’s voice was deep and booming, full of condemnation.

A slave had brought a chair and Julia had collapsed in it, a second slave was fanning her, and a third was spraying rose water on her face and hands. Anicius glared at Lucius.

“What?”

Father Philip tugged at Cas, and Lucius did the same. What did this mean, that Cas could not admit that they were lovers in front of his family? What had he told that priest who glared at him like he could kill him with his eyes?

Anicius covered half his face with his hand, and then whispered something to his wife. Cas grimaced a little, and Lucius let him go immediately.  
Julia leaned towards her husband, and Lucius envied them, even though he suspected they probably were about to order someone to throw him out of the house. He looked at Cas, still held by Father Philip, and shook his head, frustrated.

Cas couldn’t meet his gaze.

“Juli?” his sister suddenly said, sounding both tired and full of authority. “Why don’t you go rest for a while, before the thanksgiving service? I need to talk to Father Philip.”

Father Philip let him go, and Cas, glancing once at Lucius, hurried out of the courtyard. “Lucius,” Anicius told him carefully, “I think you should go now.”  
“Cas…”

“You still dare speak?”

Lucius took a step forward, ready to punch Father Philip and his hateful expression.

“Lucius, please,” Julia told him. Not seeing her face made it impossible to understand what she felt. Her voice betrayed nothing.

Lucius nodded. If Cas couldn’t accept that they were lovers, if Cas was so ashamed of them, then he didn’t need him. All the gods knew how much he loved him, but he wouldn’t betray who he was. Not for Cas, not for anyone.

&*&*

“I thought you’d still be with Cas,” Gaius told him the moment he walked into the house.

“I’ve decided to…” He shrugged, and sat down heavily. “Father Philip knows about me and Cas.” And everyone else, but he decided they didn’t matter. That hateful man was the enemy, the one Cas listened to and obeyed.

“Father who?”

“Cas’ priest and confessor. These Christians. They can’t do anything in private.” Gaius snorted.  
“Gaius, these people are mad.” He rubbed his face. “It scares me. Cas scares me too. It’s like something happens to him when he starts talking of his god,” Lucius said. And he had ignored it for so long, because he was hoping that Cas would change, but perhaps Cas never would.   
“His religion is part of who he is,” Gaius told him calmly.

“I know, but it still scares me. He’s like a different person.”

Gaius nodded. “The important thing is to remember that he loves you. You know that, right?” Lucius smiled a little for his brother’s sake. “Of course.”  
“That’s all you need to know, brother.” “You know something.”  
Gaius smirked. “I know nothing. I have to go, Lucius.” “Where?”  
“The temple of Peace. People like talking logic there in the mornings. It’s the best place for philosophical discussions in Rome, if you ask me.”

“Maybe you could go with Cas someday.” They had a lot in common, Cas and Gaius. They could remain friends, if they wanted.

Gaius made a face. Then he smiled like nothing had happened. “I’ll see you later.”

Lucius frowned. Gaius was hiding something from him. But it didn’t matter either. He stood up and went straight into his room. A moment later, he went out again. It had been a while since he’d had a hot bath. A while since he’d had a woman.

If Cas were to deny what they had, then he too would deny it. It was as easy as that.

Well, at least so he told himself when he left the house. A while later, when he was getting thrown out of the small, dingy bathhouse that was only two streets away from where he lived, he began to reconsider. And when he managed to get kicked out of two taverns, he decided it was impossible. He’d be better off getting drunk at home, with himself to keep him company.

He really hadn’t thought Cas was such a coward. Unless he was like that when he was around his family or his priest, but still… One should be able to be himself with his relatives, even if it meant hurting their feelings. Perhaps if it had been Cas’ father, Lucius could understand; Cas seemed obedient enough to his father’s  
will. But it was his sister and his brother-in-law and a total stranger. Why did he owe them obedience?

“And then he called me insufferable,” he muttered as he went back. “How dare he? Coward. Pathetic, little coward,” he continued, not caring that people moved as far away from him as possible. “Lying, stupid…” But for some reason, he couldn’t call Cas the worst of the swear words he knew. All those words had to do with sex, and even then, sex and Cas belonged in two different worlds. And just as he’d started to make a bridge between them, and gotten Cas to take his first steps towards the world of adults. “Annoying, little shit,” he said as he walked into the house. “Lying to my face that…” he suddenly stopped, his mind and body not moving together.

Cas stopped pacing the moment Lucius stepped into the courtyard. The next thing Lucius knew Cas was holding him, embracing him tightly, both arms wrapped around his neck and speaking so fast and so low, Lucius had trouble understanding him. “Relax, relax.”

Cas nodded and looked at him. “Where were you?” he asked, still frantic. “Out.” He didn’t explain why or where. He couldn’t. “And you?”  
“I ran away. I didn’t even stay for the liturgy.” Cas wouldn’t stop nuzzling him. “Julia thinks I’m a child, but I’m not. I’m not. You believe me, right?” And then he looked straight at him, his gaze sharp and clear, painfully intense. “Do you?”

He nodded and Cas relaxed, letting Lucius support him. Lucius steered him inside the study room, and settled on one of the couches, Cas still in his arms.   
“I can’t believe I did that,” Cas whispered miserably.

“I’m proud of you.” He would have been even prouder if Cas had been honest with himself and with his family, but he wouldn’t press that matter at the moment.

“I’m not.”

“Do you want to go back?”

“I missed the liturgy,” Cas continued as if he hadn’t heard him. He suddenly stood up. “I must find another church.”

“Cas, sit down.”  
“There is no life away from God. And even though I’m a wretched sinner, God will forgive me, if I go to Him.” Lucius snorted. “You skipped liturgy and ran away from your sister’s house only to go find another church? If  
you’re such a wretched sinner, why don’t you enjoy your sins for a day and let God forgive you tomorrow?” “Lucius,” Cas admonished him.  
Lucius grabbed him and made him sit down. “Relax. You don’t know how to do that, do you?” “I do. I read books and I write and I go to church.”  
“That’s not…” He smiled. Cas was still very much a child, and he’d probably remain one forever where some things were concerned. Then he kissed Cas on the tip of his nose. “Your sister must be worried for you. Why don’t you send her a letter where you are? And then, maybe try to find another church since that makes you happy?” That Father Philip was an awful man. He would corrupt Cas with his hatred and intolerance and that he hadn’t done that already was a testament of Cas’ sweet-tempered nature.

Cas embraced him again, suddenly and tightly. Next thing he knew, Cas was kissing him with searching, hungry lips that traced a winding road around his jaw and cheeks. When they found his mouth they bit and nibbled until Lucius surrendered to them. When Lucius opened his mouth to Cas’, his tongue swept inside, swift and agile and full of gratitude. But Lucius was the one who was truly grateful. Wisely, he kept silent, and let Cas kiss him as much as he wanted. And then he kissed him back.

&*&*

“You know,” Lucius told him afterwards, when they were folded into two trying to fit in the small tub, and Cas was settled so temptingly on his lap, Lucius was burning with the desire to ‘sin’ again, “Marcia had invited us for dinner last week.”

“I know.” “You do?”  
Cas traced the veins in Lucius’ arm, and he shivered again. Would he be to blame if he shifted Cas and slid not between his sweet thighs, but between his innermost secret part? In this soapy, even more slippery than usual water it shouldn’t be so difficult. And was Cas so cruel as to ignore him completely? He was, he was. “Well?”

“She sent a messenger. I sent him away, politely declining her invitation.” “Why?”  
Cas craned his head to study him. “What for? If Quadratus is planning something against Caesar, I don’t want to be involved. If he tells me what that is, then how am I to act?”

Lucius frowned.

“He’s my emperor no matter how much I…” Cas smiled tightly for a moment, but then his smile relaxed into   
something sweet and beautiful and bright. “And if it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t have met you. I owe him gratitude for that alone. Quadratus is a friend, although a very bad one. I can’t choose between duty and friendship. Also, the Lord said we must pray for our enemies, give our garment when they steal our mantle and turn the other cheek when they strike us.”

“And?”

“In this situation, I fear they’re both my enemies.” Cas shrugged and let his head fall back on Lucius’ chest. “What would you do?”

“Do nothing.”

“That’s what I’m doing too.” He sighed. “I’m such a wretched person.”

“Sinner,” Lucius grinned, and reached for Cas’ nipples, finding them already hard under his fingers. He pinched them both, and Cas arched against him like a cat.

“Please, don’t,” Cas whispered, but it was such a half-hearted plea, Lucius didn’t heed it. He continued teasing them as if he could make them peak higher, and Cas squirmed helplessly in his embrace, making little broken sounds that Lucius loved to hear. “Please.”

“Please, what?”

Cas closed his eyes, and let his face fall down. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, first bringing him to rest on Lucius’ arms, then searching for Lucius’ shoulders, neck and face, then reaching for the edges of the tub. When his right hand slid down, trailing a wet, yet burning line down Lucius’ stomach, Lucius’ breath caught in his throat. When it closed around Lucius’ dick in a slippery and fiery grip, Lucius bit his tongue.

And when Lucius reached for Cas’ manhood, he found Cas’ other hand already there, slowly stroking himself. His little boy was turning into a man, and if he weren’t suddenly busy following the path Cas’ tongue carved into his mouth, he’d laugh and praise the gods.

**********

Compared to Marcus’, Julia’s arrival could be described modest. She appeared wrapped in a wine-coloured mantle that covered her pale blue dress almost completely, and her entourage consisted of only four young women and four guards. Modest, indeed. She pulled the veil off her face the moment she saw Lucius. “The entrance to your house is too narrow. I had to leave my litter in the street,” she said accusingly.

Despite her words, her expression was friendly and when she moved and embraced him lightly, Lucius frowned in disbelief. “What can I do for you?”

“You? Nothing. Although, you could point me to…”

“Julia.” Cas came out of his study room, smiling but then he suddenly stopped. “Erm… How did you know I  
was here?”

“Where else would you be?”

Cas avoided her eyes, embarrassed. Lucius had to smile; Cas was a bit of an idiot, and Julia looked like she agreed with him, biting her lips a little in an attempt not to smile.

“We need to talk,” she said, taking her brother’s hand and trying to guide him outside. “Do we have to?” Cas asked her quietly.  
Julia was stunned for a moment. The next she glared. “Of course we do.” “Is it because of the liturgy?”  
She hugged Cas. “Oh, Juli.”   
Cas made a face and wiggled out of her embrace. “Please,” he said, half-ashamed, half-contrite. “We can talk here,” he said, guiding her gently towards his study room.

Lucius waited until Cas had closed the door and then he shooed Julia’s servants away. “My house, my rules,” he mouthed. He glared at them until they left him alone, and then he stuck his ear to the door and listened in.

“Well, it is a surprise,” Julia said defensively. “It’s a mistake, you mean.”  
“Don’t be an idiot. You’re just… you’re still my little brother. I could never imagine you with a lover.” Cas must have made an interesting face, because Julia laughed. “It’s true. It’s not something I ever thought,” she added, suddenly wistful.

“You think it’s wrong? A sin?”

“If I think it’s a sin, then Titus was a sinner too,” she said seriously. “We both know that’s not true, don’t we?” “Truly, he’s resting peacefully now.”  
“Truly.” “Amen.” “Amen.”  
Lucius rolled his eyes upwards. Fanatics hiding beneath a thin coating of philosophy.

“I never thought it either,” Cas suddenly said, almost too quiet for Lucius to hear. “To have a lover. I was happy before.”

“And now?”  
He didn’t hear Cas’ answer, if it was ever spoken. But he heard Julia’s response, a soft, “Oh, Juli.” After a long silence, he heard Cas. “Julia?” His voice was soft and tentative. She must have nodded,  
because then Cas spoke again. “You and your husband, are you chaste?”

Lucius bit his lips. He wouldn’t be surprised if Cas ran out moments later looking for water to revive his sister, but he couldn’t move away from his spot.

“What kind of a question is that?” She was laughing. Perhaps her surprise was too great? “Please.”  
“There are some things between a husband and a wife that…” She sounded hesitant, and then she stopped speaking for a while. “We do everything a husband and a wife ought to do,” she said seriously. “It would have been nice if we could remain as brother and sister to each other, but we ought to have children. You understand that.”

“That’s the sinful part.” A small silence. “Between me and Lucius,” Cas clarified, sounding so miserable. And probably looking in utter despair, because silence was followed by yet another soft and sad, ‘Oh, Juli.” “Will you stop saying that? You are familiar with Phaedrus? My ugly horse wants to be friends with his.”  
A moment later Julia’s laughter rang out strong, unrestrained and full of delight. “But of course. He’s your lover.”

“But it’s wrong. It’s seeking pleasure for the sake of pleasure.”

“Julius,” she said and she sounded as calm as Cas had sounded wrecked, “sometimes, things happen   
between a husband and a wife that are not out of duty. And you know what all the doctors say. Women can have good and strong children only if they too feel pleasure.”

“But neither of us is a woman.”

“If something applies for women, who are by nature weaker and inferior to men, then wouldn’t it also apply to men?”

Lucius bit his hand. He’d expected Julia to be full of astonishment and disbelief, and instead it was him who was speechless.

“But the Apostle says….”

“The Apostle was not married. Yet, Peter and Philip were, and so were the others.”

“Married to a wife,” Cas said in a low, desperate voice. “We… this is wrong, but I… Julia, what am I to do? I tried to guide him towards a union of spirits, but he’s so… persuasive and, may God forgive me, I want to be persuaded. I enjoy it.” The way he said it made it sound like it was the worst torture possible and imaginable.

He expected to hear Julia sigh ‘oh, Juli’ again, but instead there was another long silence. “I think,” she said slowly, “that if you love him truthfully and if he loves you back, then you should be true to each other. If the Lord has called you like this, then so you should walk. You should stay with each other, as the Apostle said, and if he is content to stay with you, then you shouldn’t leave him.”

“You think so? But isn’t that selfish and proud, to change the words of the Apostle? He clearly said that it is against nature what…”

“Isn’t love the greatest thing of all?” she cut him off impatiently. “You agree with me, don’t you? Well, if it is so, then why should your love be a sin? Or do you think Titus was a sinner for lying with Marcus?”

“But he hadn’t been baptized. Perhaps the Lord is more lenient with those that know not what sin is.”

“The Lord is more lenient with those who know sin and repent from it. You are familiar with Phaedrus? If self- control and restrain prevails, then the lovers can reap their reward in heaven, and be joined forever. Now, if we both accept that the true lover of a Christian is our Lord, the one who shows us boundless love and kindness, untainted by desire, then, don’t you think that if we exercise self-control, then we will be rewarded afterwards?”

“We will, but…”

“And because He is kind and merciful and full of love, he lets us love, and do according to our needs and our desires. He lets us get married and live not in sin. And when he are led astray, is He not the one who searches for us, and when we return to Him, he rejoices? If you are led astray now because of your desire, but then your self-control prevails, He will receive you with gladness. And your unbeliever friend will be made holy by you, and the Lord will receive him too.”

“Your name should be Diotima,” Cas told her quietly after some time.

“Would that make you Socrates, then, when you grow older?” She laughed and that ‘oh, Juli,’ that followed wasn’t sad at all, but full of fondness.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Cas admitted softly.

“Me neither. You will take care of yourself, won’t you?” He heard some noises. “I should be going. But if you dare miss another liturgy, I’ll come and…”

“But Father Philip…”

“Father Philip fears for your safety. He thinks you’re still a child.” “So do you.”  
Julia laughed again. “How can it be otherwise? It still seems like yesterday that you were this little and we all   
played in the garden. Do you remember how we all liked to play scenes from myths?” “Not really.”  
“Our favourite game, mine and Titus’ that is, when we could escape the attention of our slaves, was to dress you up in pretty clothes, put jewellery and make-up on you, and tie you to a column. You’d make the prettiest Andromeda.”

“You what?”

She laughed again. “It was better than having a doll, or a little pet, human or animal. You were prettier and always so happy to play with us.” She gave out a small, amused huff. “Or, we would play the crossing of the Hellespont. Titus, who was bigger, played the part of the ram, and we were Phrixos and Helle. Only, instead of falling down the sea, I would push you, because you were smaller. And Titus would push me off his back, and soothe your tears with teasing words and tickling fingers. His back was so big,” she said, sounding like a little, lost girl. “He’d hold you down and make it better, and I’d climb on his back, and wouldn’t let him go.”

“Julia?” Cas’ concern was frightening, intense and sharp like Julia’s memories. Lucius felt it and wondered if these crazy people in his house were truly gods, about to break the shell of their humanity, and leave him all alone.

“When did we grow up? Now I’m married and talking of things that no sister should talk to her brother.” “You’ve always been mother and sister to me. As mother you speak now.”  
“And you’ve always been mine. I can’t believe I have to share you with another now.” “Do you mind?”  
“Mind? I’m happy.” She sounded like she was miserable and crying.

Lucius stood up, feeling for the first time since he’d sat down outside that door that what he was doing was wrong. They had a right to privacy.

Only as he walked inside his room did he realise another thing. Cas would regard their relationship s binding and exclusive as a Christian marriage from now on. And instead of joy, the idea made something tighten painfully in his chest. No more women? It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been with one for weeks. They'd still existed as an option. Wasn't it the day before that he had sought a willing body just because he could?

He loved Cas, he really did, but was he ready to get married to him, and renounce all others? He had no idea.

********** “Lucius. Lucius.”  
He opened his eyes slowly. When had he fallen asleep? He’d just closed his eyes for a moment. Cas was kneeling beside him, barely touching him, looking at him with eyes bluer than any autumn sky, clearer than a summer morning, and full of light and love for him. Lucius blinked. How could he ever wonder if this would be enough?

“Julia wants to speak with you.”

He rubbed his eyes and pulled Cas down. “She can wait, can’t she?” “I don’t think so,” Cas said even as he settled on Lucius’ side.  
“Want to find out?”

Cas’ mouth tightened, but when Lucius kissed him, it opened sweetly for him. And when Lucius’ kissed his eyes, Cas stopped protesting altogether.

Julia didn’t wait. Not that it mattered.   
&*&*

Since that day, every morning he woke up to a cloudless sky, and went to sleep covered by a star-filled body, scintillating, shivering, all-encompassing. Cas didn’t tell him what Julia had said, but it was there, in his touches that were growing more confident and demanding every day. It was there, in the stares that were getting longer and longer. In the way Cas moved close to him without being told, without using excuses, without pretending he was cold. Although he was more prone to suffer from the cold than any person Lucius had ever slept with, and once the weather turned wintery, he insisted Lucius wears socks in bed - just like he did.

All the love that was directed at him when they were together made it easy to suffer through the long hours they were separated. The December Games were approaching faster with each passing day, and Lucius spent more and more time at the Barracks. Sometimes, the only thing that helped him get through the training was the promise of seeing Cas at the end of the day. At least Cas was learning how to save lives, and that made him glad. Like they were balancing each other, life and death on either sides of the scale, and their love in the middle, the only steady and unmoving thing in the world.

So steady and unmoving that Lucius thought that Fortune was finally on his side for good. When Cas had crossed himself in front of Fortune’s statue when Lucius dedicated his altar to the goddess, because he’d thought the goddess had smiled at him, Lucius was certain. He vowed to make a painting to Venus, something to tell of the miracle that was their love, something to make everyone safe in knowing that the gods looked after them, even though they couldn’t see them.

And what if Cas liked to argue more than was good for him? With anyone who’d dare push Lucius out of the way, even if they were connected to the imperial family? With the emperor himself, on one memorable occasion that had Lucius’ heart stop in fear? What if he still didn’t understand that decent people didn’t hold hands or kiss their lovers in the middle of the street, or, worse, after stupid philosophical debates? Cas either thought that slavery gave him an excuse for shamelessness, or was like any young aristocrat, thinking he was above the law. Lucius didn’t know which cause hid behind Cas’ actions, and he didn’t care much. Their love was perfect, and so was their life.

He should have known that something so good couldn’t last, and that the gods liked to play with men. He should have known.

&*&*

The day before the Games he’d had a dream. He was in a garden he recognised. The one where he’d first met Cas, and it was summer again. The sky was blue, a clear blue the same colour of Cas’ eyes, and everything around him was green and blooming. He sat on one of the benches and waited.

Instead of Cas, a man came out to meet him. He was the same age as Lucius, or maybe slightly older, and he looked like an athlete, or a warrior. Tall and muscular, he could have been intimidating, but his expression was kind. The bird cage he was holding was an unlikely object to hold, but it made sense somehow.

He sat next to Lucius and put the cage down between them. It was a delicate thing, carefully wrought, and Lucius could see that it was chosen with great care. For the bird inside was beautiful. Even though it was just a dove, Lucius had never seen one so white, or so docile. The man opened the cage’s door and took the bird out carefully.

Lucius noticed that both its wings were broken, hanging low and awkward downwards. He reached to touch its head, and was surprised when the man handed it to him carefully. The dove looked unafraid, but its heart was beating wildly when he held it. And it was so warm, and soft, and fit perfectly into his hands. He kissed the top of its head, even though something told him that this was a girly thing to do. He didn’t care.

“If you can’t heal it,” the man told him, “then you should kill it.” He looked sad, so sad as he spoke. “Why?”  
“What good is a bird that can’t fly?” He smiled, and petted the dove. “I do hope you will heal it, for it is dear to me. But, you must promise me, you will kill it if you fail.”

Lucius frowned. “I hate killing,” he said, and his hands tightened a little around the dove’s body. It cooed   
softly, and Lucius was afraid he’d hurt it. “Promise me,” the man insisted.  
“I will heal it,” Lucius promised. “I will do my best,” he said, not caring that he didn’t know how he could set the wings. He would find a way.

The man looked at him strangely. “Please do,” he whispered, and then Lucius woke up.

By the time he had his breakfast, all he could remember was that he’d had a strange dream. No matter.  
Since he was a trainer, he could see the Games up close, walk inside the arena with the fighters but wouldn’t fight with them. He preferred it to having a seat up in the cavea, where he wouldn’t see so well. And he’d  
take Cas with him, wanting to show him how well he’d trained Pinnas. Cas had agreed to come with him, with only a slight frown of disapproval.

Perhaps he would win over Cas’ god too, and make Cas convert back to their paternal religion.

&*&*

He should have known something was wrong, and ran away as fast as possible when he saw a young nobleman exchange words with Cas. A moment later he recognised him; Claudius Pompeianus, the pompous ass that had had one of his men push him aside as they came back from a lecture on Virtue, and who’d been on the receiving end of one of Cas’ ‘we’re all the same in the eyes of god, therefore we should treat each other nicely,’ speeches for that.

“Now see how we’re all equal,” Lucius heard him say when he approached, “and remember, when the gods place me in the highest post, I will remember your insults.”

“Then you’ll be undeserving of such a post, if you will be as petty and wrong of thought as to remember my admonitions as insults.”

Claudius Pompeianus cast a look at Lucius. “Stay with your plebeian lover, since this is what you’ve chosen, and see what a member of the Senate does.”

Lucius had held Cas, trying to see in his eyes if Cas hated him for being plebeian and so below him, but Cas’  
gaze was full of love, as always.

The next moment Claudius Pompeianus was advancing towards Commodus, waving his sword and shouting, “This is what the Senate has sent you.”

Lucius groaned. Stupid. Cas nodded in his arms.

Watching the Praetorians attack and capture the ridiculous ass was almost pathetic. When the guards started rounding them up, though, it stopped being amusing. And when they took Cas away because some scared or jealous bastard had pointed out that he’d been talking to the idiot, Lucius felt like dying.

&*&*

After notifying Julia and Marcus, Lucius gathered enough money for bribing the guards to let him see Cas in the prison and went all the way there not knowing what he would find. The prison itself was dreadful: dark, full of stench and the cell where Cas was, was stiflingly warm. But if he paid more, Cas would be moved to a better cell, and Lucius promised he would do that in the morning.

Cas too looked dreadful. He was sweaty and smelled of blood, hunched in a corner and trying not to whimper. When Lucius knelt beside him, after fighting his way among other prisoners, he went into his arms willingly, but Lucius didn’t know how to hold him so that he wouldn’t hurt him. “Let me clean you,” he said instead of anything else, and tried not to cry when he saw the wreck of Cas’ back. He had to be strong, because Cas was not, no matter how he stifled his cries, and hid his tears from Lucius.

“I know nothing, but I don’t think they believe me,” Cas managed at some point.

“They will,” Lucius promised, wondering how he could get an audience with Commodus.   
“I think it’s because I did nothing,” Cas whispered. “You know when.”

“It’s not.” If he could, he would have hugged Cas. Instead, he finished cleaning his wounds, and then cut one of the tunics he was wearing into stripes with his hands to make bandages. “I’ll bring proper dressings for your wounds tomorrow. And medicine. I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“I should have been more prepared.” “This is more than I deserve.”  
It seemed that Lucius wouldn’t be able to convince Cas he wasn’t being punished for his inactivity no matter what he said, so he stayed quiet, content to hold Cas until the guards kicked him out. It was the only thing he could do. And at home, he suspected Gaius of slipping something into his drink, before sleep claimed him almost immediately.

&*&*

The next day, he discovered that someone had already paid a handsome bribe to have Cas transferred to a much bigger cell with fewer people. He also discovered that Cas was lying on his stomach on a bench and with his head on his father’s lap, but he wouldn’t look at him. He approached carefully and a moment later, he pushed damp hair off Cas’ foreheard, and his hand almost burned. “He has a fever,” he said.

Claudianus glared at him as if this was his fault, but then he realised it was because he was still touching Cas. He moved his hand, and watched Claudianus press a damp cloth on Cas’ forehead. “Release him from his servitude now.”

Lucius frowned. “If you loved him why didn’t…”

“Will you shut up and do what you’re told?” Claudianus could have a very loud voice when he wanted. It made the guards move towards them. “They can be witnesses.”

“Now?”

“Are you an idiot? Whoever denounced him as Pompeianus’ co-conspirator called him your slave. Even though he is a Roman citizen.”

“So, they won’t torture him like that again,” Lucius whispered, understanding.

Claudianus frowned, and looked down at Cas. “My physician was here. He said that Julius…” His voice broke. “My son won’t die a slave. Release him now.”

Lucius nodded. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, or say, but Claudianus instructed him with little patience and more threatening words. “But he’ll… here?” He couldn’t say it, although he could believe it. Cas was shivering, and burning, and not seeing anything.

“Not if I can help it,” Claudianus said, looking towards the door.

“Or I,” someone else said. It took him a moment but he recognised Victorinus. “This is the Caesar’s own word,” he said, handing an official-looking document to the guards. “Release this man now.”

The guards looked at them, and shrugged, letting the door stay open behind them.

“The emperor commanded me to take him to the palace. He wants his own physician to look after him. He wants them to be friends,” Victorinus said.

Lucius snorted.

Victorinus was the one who struck him, even though Claudianus was the one who looked like he wanted to punch him. “If you had been a friend, you wouldn’t have put him in danger.”

“He hates the Games,” Claudianus said softly, and still accusingly. “Why did you take him there? Julius, open   
your eyes for me, son. Please.”

Lucius didn’t answer. No matter what he said, he’d still be blamed. He sat down, and watched as Claudianus’ slaves took Cas away, still surprised at Claudianus’ gentleness as he tended to his son. After everything, he didn’t expect it. Perhaps he had misjudged the man.

Not that it mattered. After this, he’d never see Cas again, even if Cas somehow survived this. He’d seen Cas’  
wounds. He’d felt Cas’ skin. He’d seen men die from less.

When the guards threw him out, he found the first tavern he could. By the time he got home, he was so drunk, he couldn’t even find his way in. And when Daphne tried to guide him, he held on to her, until she stopped trying, and let him sleep in her bed instead.

&*&*

He spent the next few days staying drunk. He didn’t try to find out what happened to Cas because that way, he could pretend that Cas was alive. But, in the name of all the gods, it hurt. From the moment he opened  
his eyes alone, until the moment he went to sleep, Cas’ absence hurt. But knowing that Cas was gone would hurt more, so he was content like that. And drunk.

The first time Gaius tried to stop him by telling him Cas wouldn’t want that, Lucius started a fight, and Gaius didn’t mention Cas again. The first time Daphne kicked him out of her bed, he decided it would be the last. The Porticus of Livia was a great place for picking up women, and the Baths were full of whores, and he hadn’t lost his charm. In fact, women older than him kept telling him he looked so sorrowful, all they wanted to do was pamper him, and women younger than him insisted they could fix him. He hadn’t been so successful with the ladies even as a gladiator. And he owed it all to Cas.

To his sweet, gentle Cas, who wasn’t there anymore, and who could be forever gone. He didn’t want to think about that, so he didn’t. And he went back to being drunk. A little drunk, just enough to pass the day and sleep without any dreams. Because, seeing Cas’ back and Cas lying still was a nightmare he hated having, but seeing Cas in his dreams, alive and well and happy was worse. What use to wake up grasping what wasn’t there?

And when messengers came, first from Julia and then from Marcus, he kicked them out and told them never to bother him again.

&*&*

One day, perhaps a month after he’d lost Cas (forty-two days to be exact), someone stopped him on the street outside his house, asked him his name, and then handed him a package. Lucius opened it more out of curiosity, and then he was glad that he was home, and could sit down.

The first thing he saw was a delicately made portrait of Cas, dark-blue glass, shades darker than his eyes surrounding the pale, golden face. It was Cas, exactly as he remembered him, gentle and quiet, with a smile that never reached his mouth but played in his eyes. The Cas that woke up before him and studied him in the morning half-light. The Cas that burrowed in his arms and rubbed his sock-clad feet against his, seeking warmth and sharing love.

He felt like breaking it and almost threw it away, because how would he ever forget Cas if Cas kept staring at him like that? But he immediately changed his mind, because he would never forget. And this, no matter how cruel a gift it was, was still an image of his Cas.

Then he opened the letter.

From Cassianus to Lucius, my dearest friend,

You thought words came easily to me, and, honestly, I too thought that it was so, schooled as I was in the arts of rhetoric and philosophy and everything else that were appropriate for someone of my age and birth. And yet, I don’t know where to start, or how, or even what to tell you.

I am well, and have taken a dispensation from Caesar to continue my studies in philosophy instead of seeking a position as one of the Twenty Men. Father thinks that it is wrong of me to not pursue a career in civil or military service, but it is not what I wish. And I need to leave Rome for a while. My situation is   
scandalous, no matter how one looks at it, and an embarrassment for Father and myself alike.

When the weather gets suitable for travelling, in a month or two, I will be leaving for Alexandria, via Athens, Aphrodisias and other locations I have not decided yet. I’m trying to make a map based on where the philosophers I would like to meet teach, before I decide whom to take as my teacher, but it is so difficult and Father says it would be easier if I offered them money to come here, but, as I said, I want to leave Rome.

I thought of asking you to join me, because I will need someone to deal with all the things I never consider, but Marcus says he has other plans for you, and he asks me to tell you that if you will not go see him immediately, he will come find you, and that his patience is wearing thin. Trust me, you don’t want to make Marcus angry; he’s too stubborn and it’s easier to agree with him than fight him.

Cas was still cruel, but he was alive and his hands were shaking too much, and his mind was numb. He turned the page, and the first thing he noticed was the writing was no longer as neat or careful.

I’m really bad with words. What I really want to say is that I miss you. Father doesn’t let me leave the house, and my only consolation is looking at your portrait. I had it made three weeks ago, when my fever finally broke, and my back was healed enough for me to draw without feeling pain. And I thought you might want one of me too, even though it is a vain and selfish thing. But seeing your face so close to mine makes me feel as though you’re with me.

I wish you could visit. My bed is so much warmer and softer than yours.

Be well, my dearest friend, and when we meet, you’ll see that even though I am so bad with words, I am much better with actions.

&*&*

When he finally sees Cas again, it feels like a scene from a novel: there are bribed guards and slinking around narrow corridors, hiding behind statues and stealing in through doors left purposefully unattended. But at the end of the road there is Cas, beautiful and quiet, but the moment he sees Lucius he goes to him, runs to him, clings to him, and his face is suddenly wet with tears (or is it Cas’?) and with the trail of kisses (definitely Cas’).

His bed is much softer and warmer than Lucius’. Bigger too. Lucius struggles to pull him down, but Cas refuses and pushes him down insistently until Lucius gives in, and Cas straddles him and holds him down, and doesn’t stop kissing him. He wonders where his innocent, timid Cas has gone, but can’t get enough of this hungry, young man who takes him apart with every touch, every sweep of his tongue.

Even their joining is fast and furious, Cas thrusting against Lucius for a short eternity, and then taking them both in his hand, shamelessly staring at Lucius’ eyes while he strokes them, bold and hurried as if this is a race, and they can’t stop at all. Quietly, sharply, Lucius climaxes and Cas doesn’t even allow him to breathe, mouth locked on his. Hungry, so very hungry.

If he had known that all it would take to have Cas touch him without any finesse, and full of mad desire, was a few weeks’ separation, he would have done it sooner. But then he remembers that he thought Cas was dead, and he never wants to do that again. Ever.

“Marcus wants to adopt me,” he says as he makes himself a cradle for Cas, and doesn’t dare caress his back. “But I’d rather go on a journey with you.”

“Fool. Have him adopt you and then go on a journey to further your education,” Cas laughs and he’s moving again, slowly but surely. Young, so very young, and finally released of whatever had been holding him.

Lucius laughs too, because he likes this Cas. “I told him to adopt Gaius instead.”

“You really want to work for me?” Cas is half-hard already, and he’s rolling his hips in a way that is guaranteed to make Lucius follow him in the ways of Venus soon. “I can be a dreadful master. Uncaring,” and the way he slides along Lucius’ body is truly without care for Lucius’ gasps, and the way he can’t hold himself still, even though he wants to. “Cruel,” and he demonstrates it with tiny, little bites across Lucius’ lower lip, and pleasure bursts into needles of pain and changes into pleasure again. “Thoughtless,” and he falls on Lucius, his whole body perfectly aligned with Lucius’, all matching curves and planes. “And I’ll never let you go.”   
“Is that supposed to scare me?”

When Cas laughs, the stars in his eyes turn into suns. The way Cas stares at him is like Cas sees something just as wondrous and miraculous. This time, he dares touch Cas’ back, and he feels scarred flesh beneath the thin fabric. “Let me see.”

Cas pales and that’s enough of an answer for Lucius. This time, he struggles for real to bring Cas down, and  
Cas fights back earnestly. But he’s still bigger, stronger, and more used to fighting dirty. Cas had no chance. “You used to love this,” Cas tells him with a voice full of shame. “My back. Please, don’t do that.”  
Which is enough of a reason for him to trap Cas beneath him and lift his tunic and stare at the mess that is his back.

“The doctor said the scars will fade, but never go away.”

Lucius thinks there are more scars than the ones he can see that will never go away, if the way Cas’ voice wavers is an indication. But he loves Cas, and his scars and everything else about him. “Then I should get acquainted with them,” he laughs and starts. It will probably take him a few hours to kiss each scar from beginning to end, but he has time.

Cas stares at him like he knows exactly what Lucius is thinking, and is pleased. He even manages to stay mostly still, though not very quiet, while Lucius traces every scar, but when Lucius is done, he flips him over and is hungry again.

While Cas nips and bites and scratches him, holding him in place and seeking friction between Lucius’ thighs, Lucius thinks he sees the future. They’ll burn each other in this big, soft bed, and they’ll become one. And then they’ll do it again, and again, until there’s nothing left. He doesn’t mind. There are worse ways to go.

 

The end


End file.
